


Marching On

by rustingroses



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aliens, Cannibalism, Dub-con/rape (implied) on Tarsus IV, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-30
Updated: 2010-04-30
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:38:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 92,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9860753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustingroses/pseuds/rustingroses
Summary: For the Tarsus IV fic challenge #29: I want to see Jim forced to relive Tarsus IV--but not just because some aliens were sadistic or whatever, but as a test--and I would love the reward to be one of two things 1) either Vulcan is restored or 2) Amanda is alive again. I'll make you wait til the end to see which one I picked. The title is taken from the OneRepublic song Marchin On





	1. And We'll Have The Scars To Prove It

_There are defining moments in every person’s life. These are the moments that shape the person, the moments that reveal the true depths of morals and feelings and intelligence. These moments become the center of a person’s sense of self, the center of their belief of where they fit in with the universe, shows them what they will and will not do when pushed to the edge. At times the moments are disquieting, when a person realizes something that they cannot stand to acknowledge about themselves and bury it as deep as they are able. Sometimes the moments are small, unnoticeable. They are decisions made without conscious thought, but send those who make the decisions down certain paths that cannot be changed, even if they aren‘t aware of the life-changing nature of their choice. Other times they are overwhelming, blazing points of thought and emotion that are so deeply ingrained into a person’s psyche, a person’s being that it becomes what a person_ is. _These are the situations where the true measure of what a person is- who a person is- is tested without fail._

It is here that people are broken more often than they are made whole.

James Tiberius Kirk is made up of a lot of moments, like all people are. Those iridescent moments, however, the moments that sum up his being, the moments that define what lines he will cross, and what can be sacrificed…he has three of them.

There is first the moment, which is the very first time that he understands, well and truly understands that his father is dead. It’s the day that his grandfather Tiberius dies, and he realizes that ’dead’ is this horrible thing full of stillness and paleness and tears. It’s black mourning and gravestones and shaking hands. It terrifies Jim on too many levels for him to comprehend for a long time. This is the very first time that he understands that he is the cause of his father’s death even though he was just a small being just coming into this universe, naked and cold and crying and unaware. He was the reason that his father stayed to drive the ship on a collision course. They say he did it to save the other people too, of course, and it’s true- but Jim knows that if it weren’t for the fact that he, the squalling newborn, and she, the loving wife, had been present, things might not have turned out quite the same. He can’t stop thinking about it, agonizing over moments that could have gone differently. He wants to know more, to reach the epiphany his father reached, to see things as his father, the one that put the empty hole in his heart that he can’t even begin to describe, did, but Winona doesn’t speak much of those days. It’s a long time before he understands that even though it wasn’t always easy to love him, to love the reason that her husband was killed, she does love him, sweet and pure and hard- she just can‘t always show it, and that hurts him too. Even with that love, though, that knowledge of how he was born defines him in more ways than he dares to consider. Winona’s love simply isn’t enough. There isn’t anyone whose love is enough. It’s a small eternity before Jim realizes that sometimes, life must be set aside for other things, for greater things. Sometimes, life must be set aside for love.

The third moment is what the Starfleet likes to call ‘The Narada Incident’. Three words that make it seem so simple, so cut and dry. Those three words don’t encompass Bones’s face as he patches up person after person, doing the most good he can for the most people possible even after being awake for nearly forty eight hours straight. They don’t touch that broken-lost-little-boy-hurt look on Spock’s face with the realization that the one person he knew without fail loved him is gone. They can’t comprehend Chekov’s stuttering, painful admission that he lost Amanda, or Sulu’s gasping breath as he is overcome with terror in a free fall that should have ended in death, or Uhura’s choked tears that come later when she can no longer hold back the soul-numbing sadness at the loss of Vulcan. These are only a handful a moments from that fateful trip, a handful of the moments that stand out with agonizing clarity. Scotty’s sound of pure horror that sends goosebumps down Jim’s arms, Pike’s broken form lying on nothing more than a steel plate, Gaila’s green skin splattered with blood; these moments and more give him nightmares. With them, however, comes the realization that he is finally, finally, home. These are his people, his family- he finally gets it, gets why his father made the decisions he did, and realizes that he would do the same. It’s a blinding moment, the realization that from this moment he is the ship’s husband and the crewmembers his children, that they are irrevocably bound together because he cannot, not for a single moment, fail the people under his protection. They are his in ways he is just beginning to understand. Jim also realizes that he wouldn’t have it any differently. It’s a struggle sometimes, to manage it, but he keeps trying and he gets better every day.

From the day his father died, he gains understanding as to why people choose to die. From the day he stood on the bridge as Captain of the Enterprise, he gains an understanding that there were people for whom he'd die.

But there is the second moment to be considered still, and this moment defines him as much as the others do.

Tarsus IV.

From Tarsus IV, he gains the understanding what he would do to keep people alive.

That, perhaps, was the most dangerous understanding of all.


	2. But With What We Have

He’d learned to ignore a lot of the little things. Hunger pains, scratches, bruises, dizziness- none of it made that much of an impact anymore. When someone lived with them for a long enough span of time, they stopped noticing them properly when in any other situation the accumulated pain would have been enough to make them weep. The human body, the human mind can adjust to a lot of things, to terrible things, and even if the mind is broken, the body can’t always get over that instinctual need to preserve itself. So sometimes, sure, he’d get so dizzy that he thought he was going to vomit, but when the choice was either lay down and let that bastard’s men take him, or run and run and run, and make it back to the hideaway where the others were waiting, well, Jimmy Kirk knew damn well which one he was going to pick.  
  
As he jogged around what he fondly called the elephant rock, he was glad that his trip was almost done. He hated leaving the others for long periods of time, and he’d been gone almost three days; half a day’s worth of travel to and from the city, and another two doing what he had to in order to scrounge up any food what he could get his hands on. He’d gone out to get food not to save himself, but to save the others, to save his friends, the motley crew that had banded together from circumstance. He’d managed the food too, managed to get enough to last the nine of them three whole days, with careful rationing- two small loafs of bread, ten old carrots, six heads of broccoli and, with a sort of awe and pride that made a beatific smile cross the too weary face, two small ducks- well, they weren’t exactly ducks, but they were aquatic birds, so Jimmy privately thought of them as ducks- that the snares had successfully trapped.  
  
When Jimmy thought of Gail, the small, seven year old girl, the pride swelled to the point of bursting. She’d been a pale, wraith-like thing when they’d first found her on the outskirts of the city, broken and bleeding, thrown to the edges like so much trash, much the same way they‘d found Harry a few weeks prior. There were other bodies too, but they were swollen, misshapen from the expanding gases in their body, slowly but surely decaying- the only thing that was left of the colonists that Kodos had ordered murdered in his name, the very same act that had given Kodos the name ‘Executioner‘. They’d come there hoping to find food, but the very ground itself was poisoned by the decomposing bodies, and they hadn‘t dared to pick anything up. The smell had been horrific, and both Harry and Big J had thrown up. Jim had barely held on, and him and Big J had sent the others back, unwilling to let the little ones see any more death or pain than was absolutely necessary. His heart beat painfully in his chest at the mere thought of that haunting scene.  
  
They’d taken Gail in, of course. They’d rescued her from her fate and done what they could to nurse her back to health, but they weren’t doctors, didn’t know much more than the fact that cuts had to be cleaned or they would get infected. She’d spent too much time unconscious though, with nothing more than whispered words as the only sign that she even realized what had occurred, and now her body was nearly insubstantial from lack of nourishment. With the duck meat and some vegetables, they might be able to make some sort of weak broth to get her to drink. They’d tried giving her solid food, but she would just vomit it back up. Big J, the oldest kid of the bunch, got a pinched look around his eyes every time that happened, and Jimmy knew that it wasn’t good. However, there wasn’t much they could do. Big J was needed to keep the kids in line, keep them occupied and safe, while Jimmy made sure they were fed, making sure no one was following him to enforce the bastard‘s orders and kill everyone who‘d spoken out against his outdated eugenics- even Jimmy, the one who‘d once been Kodos‘s golden boy. It wasn’t perfect, but it was what they had, and Jimmy was finally bringing back enough food to give them a fighting chance.  
  
It made the abominable ache in his ass and the blood dripping down his leg worth it.  
  
Jimmy was on the verge of whistling as he ducked around the last set of trees, through the narrow crack that led to the cave, and down the natural steps to were the others were waiting near the underground river that was their source of fresh water. He adjusted his pack, making the caw of a peacock to signal that it was Jimmy, back home and safe from the journey.  
  
There was no answer for nearly fifteen seconds. Jimmy froze, heart suddenly thundering into overdrive, keeping his breath nearly silent as he moved forward on the balls of his feet, careful to avoid everything in his path that might cause a noise. Then he heard it, just barely: an owl’s mournful hoot, echoing in the cave. He darted forward, ready to curse Big J out for giving him that near-heart attack, for making it seem like they weren‘t there. The first words were nearly out of his mouth as he turned the final corner, heavy scowl on his face, when he saw the others.  
  
Karrin and O’las were huddled in the corner of the large open area where they lived, tears streaming down both their faces as they clutched at each other. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Savik was kicking the wall over and over again, even though Jimmy could see even from here that his foot was battered and dripping blood on the floor. Savik didn’t seem to notice, however. Big J was crouched over the river, staring blankly at his reflection, eerily still. Teddy was next to Big J, awkwardly patting his arm and sucking his thumb the way he only did when he was terrified these days; normally he insisted that he was a big boy, that he was brave and that he didn’t need his thumb any more, because he was five years old. Gabriel, glasses askew was lying near the entryway, shaking hands over his face. Lastly was Harry, whose long limbs had been folded up into some ridiculous tight contortion as his shoulders shook with sobs.  
  
“Big J?” Jimmy whispered, but he was just stalling for time. There was only one reason for all the despair that was bottled up in the room and making Jimmy’s stomach roll unpleasantly. He was acutely aware of how disheveled he looked, of the blood dripping down his leg, yet at the same time he was aware of them only distantly. Big J’s eyes flickered, once, to what Jimmy had seen but hadn’t wanted to accept.  
  
Gail, too pale, deathly pale. Her chest no longer rose and fell in those strong, steady breaths that Jimmy had come to expect. All the food he’d carried in his hands dropped, and he followed it down, barely noticing the sharp crack of agony in his knees; how could he notice, when it was a pale imitation of the one in his heart? Jimmy started shaking uncontrollably, needing to get clean, needing to scrub his skin of the stain of his failure, because he hadn’t been fast enough- hadn’t been willing to go to those measures to get food just yet, but he’d been desperate and now it was all for nothing-  
  
Jim Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise shot up from his bed, heaving breaths in great gasping sobs. His skin was soaked with fear sweat, his heart pounding like he’d just run ten miles, limbs trembling too badly for him to properly wipe away the sweat on his face. Panic and terror flared in his mind, hot and bright and for a few terrifying seconds he couldn‘t breathe at all. He was swamped by the feelings for a long moment before he could fight them down, struggling to regulate his breathing and his heart, taking in slow, deep breaths to prevent himself from hyperventilating. Every time he closed his eyes, even to blink, the dream in all its horror was painted across his lids in brilliant shades, and his breath started to quaver dangerously.  
  
Nearly twenty minutes passed before he considered himself even close to calm again, and he immediately got up, glancing at the chronometer as he passed. He grimaced. It was 02:47, ship standard time, and he’d only managed to get about three hours of sleep. Running a hand through his sweaty hair, Jim stood, stripping the sheets of his bed and tossing them down the laundry chute. His boxers followed them, and he made his way into the Captain’s bathroom, desperate for a water shower to soothe out some of the tension that had knotted his muscles, to rinse away the bad dreams.  
  
As the water washed over him, Jim closed his eyes, sighing deeply and trying to view the event with a clinical eye. Considering his life, he didn’t get nightmares nearly as often as he’d thought he would, but when he did, they were always too vivid, too entrancing, forcing him to relive some of the worst experiences of his childhood as well as some of the more horrific moments of his captainship on the Enterprise. Tonight’s dream, like many of the others, had contained a small variance that hadn’t happened in reality, for which Jim was grateful. He could remember that day perfectly clear, remember the shame that had warred with joy- selling his body for food hadn’t exactly been the height of his experiences, but it had saved them, had helped them get food. Gail hadn’t died that night, thank goodness. She hadn’t died at all, in fact, and the food that Jim had brought back that night was probably the reason that she’d survived, since the broth they‘d made was the first thing she‘d been able to keep down for nearly a week. Despite those small victories, however, Jim didn’t like to talk about what he’d done, in those days, beyond to say that they were necessary.  
  
Jim turned his face into the spray of water as if it could cleanse his thoughts, shuddering slightly as his own morbidity and depression. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep that night, at the very least, and probably not the next night either. Jim’s nightmares came fairly few and far between considering what his life had been filled with, but every time he had them, he was a wreck for the better part of the following three days. He scrubbed at his body with soap, wiping away the remnants of sweat and the phantom hands that had been touching him. He stayed under the hot spray as long as he could, needing desperately to feel clean. He’d had problems when he was younger, occasionally, with scrubbing his skin to the point that it was bleeding, but Jim was too conscientious these days to do it purposefully or by accident. He sighed, finally, coming to the conclusion that the shower wasn’t being exceedingly helpful. He shut off the water, and as he stepped out of the shower, dripping water on the floor, he considered what he should do next.  
  
He considered sending Gail a vid. By doing that, he could face his nightmare directly, for seeing her face and listening to her speak would do a great deal to alleviate his fears, but his nerves were scraped raw at the moment. He couldn’t quite manage the desire to confront what she represented quite yet, not with her dead body still in his mind’s eye. He congratulated himself for considering the idea at all, however. For a number of years it had been too much, to interact with the people who had been with him those months on Tarsus IV. When they’d finally been rescued, he’d simply shut himself off from the others, driven them away, trying desperately to be whole, to stop thinking of what he‘d seen, what he‘d done.  
  
He’d been too damaged though, between his father and Tarsus IV, to ever be normal. It drove him to drinking, to fighting, to sex, anything that would help block out the memories, the phantom hands. He needed something, anything to push away the fact that he‘d been useless twice over, despite the protests of the people around him. Once as a baby, getting his father killed, or so he‘d thought at the time, and once when he was thirteen and on Tarsus IV, doing what he had to do to keep his friends safe, even if it meant exchanging sex, amongst other things, for food. He smiled a little grimly, then shook his head to clear it. It would do no good to dwell on it now. He would send Gail a vid later, when the wounds weren’t quite so fresh, the memories less vivid. He did spare a thought for her, wondering briefly how she was doing- like Jim, like the rest of them, she too bore marks of her time on Tarsus. Harry hoarded food, for example, and Karrin still struggled with anorexia. Jim himself could no longer properly interpret hunger signals from his body, having spent the better part of five months ignoring them constantly, and none of the work the doctors had done to restore the response pathways had worked. He literally had to remind himself to eat, something that always caused a low burn of shame to ache in his gut.  
  
Jim felt the tension creeping back into his body at the thought, locking his muscles painfully. It was just another of the many failures that Tarsus IV represented for him, and something bitter and dark swelled in his heart as he resisted the urge to pick something up for the sole purposes of shattering it against the far wall. Instead, he hissed a breath, purposefully trying to turn his thoughts to something more joyous. He wiped at his face with his towel, trying to rub away the telltale burning in his eyes.  
  
He couldn’t help but wonder what everyone would say, if they knew that on top of being the famous child born during the Kelvin disaster, he had been on Tarsus IV. Winona had used all of her political power from her husband’s death to keep Jim’s name out of the press, something for which he was eternally grateful. For their part, Starfleet wasn’t too keen on letting his name reach the press either; it was bad enough that Kodos had essentially committed genocide. Starfleet didn’t want the knowledge that the son of the Kelvin disaster’s hero had done things grown men would quail at to feed his friends to reach the public.  
  
Starfleet would have been crucified.  
  
For his part, Jim didn’t care about the politics of the disaster. He just wanted everyone to leave him the fuck alone. Though the rescue ship that had been sent had tried to help him, Jim just felt like an overanalyzed experiment, and all he wanted was to rail against the doctors, nurses and therapists that had been assigned to his case. Jim had never voluntarily shared the details, until one after another had quit, feeling as though they couldn‘t get past the brick wall that Jim had erected around himself. With each new failure, the small little boy with blood dripping down his leg trembled and cried; the rest of Jim just smirked and made crass little comments, viciously glad that they were giving up, because everyone had given up. It was a sick, hollow victory, because he wasn’t worth the time, wasn’t worth the energy. It was easier just to pass his case file along to someone else, and someone else, and someone else until finally Winona had withdrawn him completely from hospital care, and did her best to take care of him until he‘d left at sixteen to roam anywhere and everywhere he could.  
  
Then Bones had come along.  
  
Of his friends, only Bones knew the details. For the first couple of months at the Academy, they had been drinking buddies for the most part, not true friends, for all that they had been assigned a room together because they had both signed their contracts late. Bones was busy with getting his xenobiology certification and trying to ward off requests to teach this or that class in addition to his rounds at Starfleet Medical. Jim was busy too, adjusting to seven classes when the normal cadet had five. He’d sworn though, sworn to Captain Pike that he’d be out of the fucking Academy and into the stars in three years, and he would be damned if he would fail at something else. So they existed in a tenuous sort of acknowledgement, a cautious relationship that hovered somewhere between drinking buddies and enemies, depending on whether Jim had brought back another sentient being to fuck while Bones was trying to study or not.  
  
Such was the limbo until, of course, the day that Jim had come in late one night, bruised and bleeding from yet another fight; Bones had dragged him to the Academy hospital to treat him on the sly in an act of kindness and sorrow, since if Jim had another fight on record it was entirely possible he’d be kicked out of Starfleet, no matter how much of a genius he was or the fact that his father was the hero of the Kelvin disaster. Jim still wondered what had possessed Bones to do it, what had given him such sympathy. Bones was risking his position at Starfleet too, treating Jim’s wounds without reporting them and without explicit permission. Within all of Jim’s rambling drunken musing on Bones apparent development of kindness, something that Jim hadn’t believed possible, though, the fact that Bones was going to treat him and the fact that Bones would therefore have access to his medical file never connected. It hadn’t surfaced in his mind even as he stared at Bones, wondering dimly if his mother had been right, and if you scowled too often your face actually got stuck like that.  
  
Bones had been perusing it carefully, checking for allergies, for previous medications and its effects and the like to ensure that he didn’t accidentally kill his patient while Jim had been rotating his bruised shoulder, trying to figure out if the bone itself was bruised or not when he’d seen Bones’s face drain of all color. In his alcohol-drenched mind, it had taken a perilously long second for that fact to connect with what he knew was on the file- everything he‘d done on Tarsus, all of the medical and psychological evaluations, diagnosis, the medicine he‘d been on, everything in black letters on a white screen. Even then, Jim wasn’t in sufficient control of his facilities to make an escape, though it sobered him up quite abruptly as he inhaled sharply. He was out of his chair, making fake apologies and excuses and nearly to the door before Bones came over and grabbed his ear in a vicious twist that had him shouting in pain. Bone’s face was a careful mask as he dragged Jim back into the room, and cleaned all his injuries without saying so much as a word. Nevertheless, whenever Jim made a bid for escape, Bones had no compunction about landing a hard jab to a nerve cluster or hitting him particularly emphatically with a hypospray to keep him in place.  
  
Jim, for his part, had no idea how to respond to Bones’s taciturn silence, but understood that at the very least, he wasn‘t getting out of Bones‘s grasp without being treated. He knew that if need be, Bones would sedate him, and he didn‘t want it to come to that, didn‘t want to feel less in of control of the situation than he already did. Bones kept throwing him off balance with his silence, however. He was used to people trying to make him talk about it, to make him understand that it wasn’t his fault, that he should be proud of helping the others to survive, but every word was just a hot brand on skin. How could they possibly understand what kind of hell Tarsus IV had been for those who had lived through it? He tried to escape only once more, as they left the Academy hospital and headed back to the room. He’d tried to run off, but hadn’t been expected Bones to be on him in a flash, kicking his feet out from under him and leaning his full body weight on the arms that Bones had twisted up behind Jim.  
  
“Doctors these days are trained in basic hand to hand combat to prevent things like drug addicts forcibly stealing what they want. I taught the class for four years before I ever came to Starfleet. Do not mess with me, or I will drag your sorry ass to medical and make you listen. Am I clear?”  
  
Jim had sagged beneath Bones, giving in. Bones had given him a single look that simply _dared_ Jim to pull something. Jim was cowed by the behavior- no one had reacted like this, no one had bothered to see what it was that _he_ wanted, no one had done anything but pity him again and again and _again_. So when Bones dragged him back to the room that they shared, forced him to sit down and handed him a whisky, Jim wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Drinking as therapy? He’d been there, done that, and there were bars all across Iowa that had his vomit in the corner to prove it as truth. He’d taken the glass with a laugh, smirking, and asked Bones in the coolest voice he muster, “Is that the best you’ve got?”  
  
Bones just tossed back his drink, hissing through his teeth a little as it burned going down and stared up at the ceiling and just…talked.  
  
And talked.  
  
And _talked_.  
  
He talked about every aspect of his daughter, Joanna, whose existence was previously a mystery. He talked about his ex-wife, how he met her, why he’d married her and how it had all fallen apart. He talked about his mother. He talked about the grandparents who hated him, and the ones that had gone to their graves. He talked about his younger sister, his elder brother.  
  
He talked about his father.  
  
He talked about…about killing his father.  
  
Through it all Jim sat and stared at Bones, heart aching anxiously for the stalwart man before him, wondering at his courage to share parts of himself that Jim suspected that no one else knew. Not his family, nor his friends. Jim listened as hard as he could as the words poured out of Bones, committing each word, each pause, each breath to memory so as to recall even the most minute changes in expression. It made Jim ashamed that he could not do what this man was doing, in the bright halogen lights that threw Bones’s lined face into sharp relief. He had never bared himself to another, never had that courage, yet nor could he manage to hate Bones for what he was doing now. This was a gift that Bones was giving him, a gift given freely and without expectation of return. Bones was giving him this to make him understand that he wasn’t alone, that he could trust Bones and Bones clearly trusted him. With this knowledge, Jim could take away Bones’s medical license, prevent him from seeing Joanna, kick him out of Starfleet, the last place Bones had to call his own. Instead, Jim listened and believed, just a little, in God, because someone was sure as hell looking out for him.  
  
And if Jim cried a little as Bones smoothed his hair away from his face that night before tucking the covers around him like he once imagined his father would, well, Bones was a man. He wouldn’t mention it.  
  
The next morning, Bones didn’t press any more than he had the night previous, just jabbed a hypospray into Jim’s neck like every other time to combat the dehydration, and went on his merry way. Jim felt more refreshed than he had in a long time, as though he’d finally gotten some real rest, as though it had been him that poured his soul out to Bones instead of the other way around. Though maybe he had, Jim mused. If he’d really wanted to, he probably could have fought Bones off the night before. He hadn’t been that drunk, and Jim knew how to throw a punch that would hurt enough to let him get away; and when Bones had started talking, Jim probably could have left then too.  
  
Yet he hadn’t.  
  
That single night had bound them irrevocably together; sure, he’d thought Bones was interesting before, but that night had found Jim the first real friend he’d had his entire life. He began revealing the details little by little, a comment slipped in here, a response he normally wouldn’t have made there. He let Bones catch him when he set his watch to remind him to eat. When Starfleet told him at the beginning of his second year that he couldn’t get into command track unless he was willing to attend regular therapy to resolve ‘outstanding issues‘, Jim recruited Bones to act as his psychologist, despite the fact that it wasn’t even his specialty.  
  
Slowly but surely, Jim began to feel worth something again.  
  
In return, Jim made sure that Bones had plenty to drink on the anniversary of his marriage, divorce, Joanna’s birthday, and most weekends. He stopped bringing people back to the room, no matter what they said they could do with their tongue (though he found other venues to explore those options- Jim was Bones’s friend, not a saint). He helped Bones study for exams, made sure he didn’t wallow in the single life forever, and generally tried to be as good a friend for Bones as Bones was for him.  
  
Jim shook his head a second time, fighting his way clear of the memories again as he pulled on a pair of his most comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt. He wouldn’t be due on the bridge for alpha shift until 08:30, and he wasn’t about to stay alone in his room for the next five hours. He ran a hand through his hair, knowing that he probably looked exhausted and bit his lip. Bones was on beta shift, that he knew, and he usually was up until some obscene hour in his lab anyways, working on some project or another, for all he lectured Jim about taking time off. Jim hadn’t been really interested in science, not the way Bones or Spock were, but a trained monkey could make media for cultures, run sequences or any of the thousand or so other tasks that were generally considered ‘grunt work’, and he‘d helped Bones in the labs before. He could go down and see if Bones was in his lab, and if so, he could help. It would be nice, too. Jim simply had more of a knack for engineering, for tactical, for piloting and navigational work, and medicine required a different set of mental muscles that he rarely bothered to stretch. Plus, if he lost himself in grunt work for a couple of hours, it would keep his mind off things until he could talk to Bones without loosing his mind, his temper, or both.  
  
There was no such thing as true “night” on a Starship. The three shifts a day, with a weirdly staggered omega shift somehow managed to keep everyone on a six days on, three days off system- more or less- meant that it was always the middle of the day for someone, and it showed. It was mid morning for those on gamma shift, and Jim was treated to friendly salutes as he made his way down to medical, chatter on all sides. Sure enough, Bones was still in the middle of running some cell cultures when Jim finally poked his head into the first of the ten labs attached directly to med bay.  
  
“Knock knock!” Jim called.  
  
Bones looked up, scowl taking over his face when he realized who it was. There were few people who entered any room with so cavalier an opening statement as ‘knock knock‘. “Shouldn’t you be asleep? No, wait, forget I asked. Only _sane_ people would be asleep in the middle of their night, and I learned four years ago that you’d give a dodo bird a run for its money in the stupidity department.” He turned back to his microscope after shooting a glare at Jim, and unwilling to squander attention on Jim when he had whatever it was under his microscope to study.  
  
It was to Medical’s credit that they barely stirred at the CMO’s harassment of their Captain. Perhaps they were used to it, after a year of the pair bickering almost constantly. Jim just leaned against the wall, waiting for Bones to look up again. Bones had a sixth sense, Jim sometimes thought, when it came to knowing when Jim was about and how he was feeling. Usually Jim had something specific to say when he visited Bones while the man was working, because even he wasn’t fool enough to bring on himself the rage that would result. So when Jim didn’t speak up, didn’t launch into some story or command, Bones looked up and studied Jim for a moment before that acerbic exterior softened for the merest instant. Bones had been there, through the nightmares and the drunken babbling and the tears. He’d see the signs- Jim trusted him to see the signs when no one else could.  
  
There was a reason that Bones was his best friend.  
  
“If you’re going to stand there,” Bones all but growled, right on cue. “Then come and lend a hand, you lazy ass.”  
  
On another ship, perhaps, or in another lab, the medical personnel might have taken offense at their Captain getting so involved in the day to day affairs. On those other ships and labs, however, there were probably people being paid just to do grunt work and who didn’t have seven other projects that they were trying to balance at once. On the Enterprise, however, overachievement was less a part of the type A personality, and more of a way of life. They were more than willing to hand off the running of blots and sequencing and the use of optical tweezers to examine DNA constructs and other mind-numbing steps to someone who was willing to do them, so they could return to creating a vaccine to the Orion reglund, or whatever it was that medical personnel did in their free time. Jim had never been too clear on the details, exactly, and if Bones droned on for more than twenty minutes about his side projects, Jim tended to go cross eyed and started to have his brain leak out his ears.  
  
So he spent five hours first refining the algorithm that matched genetic sequences to genetic diseases by gene, and then sifting through the results, looking for anomalies that might cause future problems. It was the lowest of low grunt work, and the medical personnel hated being forced to do it. The work required little more than a single functioning brain cell, but it was necessary to run the updated genetic sequence of every person on the Enterprise through the algorithm to ensure that they hadn’t been exposed to anything that was slowly turning their DNA into mush.  
  
Or something like that.  
  
At the end of the fifth hour, just when Jim was rubbing at his bleary eyes, a cup of coffee was placed by his elbow. The room was empty, as it often was in that strange half-hour where the current shift was wrapping things up and the new shift was just coming on. Bones gazed at Jim, eyes sad. Then he sighed, leaned against the lab table and said. “You, me, in ten hours for a glass of proper bourbon.” Then he left.  
  
Jim’s mouth curled into a small, wry smile. Typical Bones behavior. He took the cup back with him to his room, where he drained the cup and got dressed in his Captain’s uniform, smoothing down the gold cloth and marveling a little that he was even able to wear it at all. He shot Gail a quick vid, asking for an update on how she was, sent it off and was strolling on the bridge at exactly 08:30, sipping an extra cup of coffee.


	3. For All Of The Plans We've Made

As he walked onto the bridge, he took a moment to appreciate his crew, hovering for a breath by the turbolift. Bones was his best friend, his brother, but these people were his family too, as silly as it sometimes sounded in his head. Chekov was the quintessential little brother, full of interest in everything around him and so eager to do everything his elders could do. Jim sometimes thought if he rubbed off just a little on Chekov, he’d have achieved the greatest honor possible as a starship captain. There was Sulu, the slow and steady cousin that always won the race; his calm was not the tightly controlled ease of his First Officer, but a more relaxed version that tempted Jim to say “Surf’s up, dude,” in a Californian accent just to see what would happen. There was wild and crazy Scotty, the uncle who showed up solely to throw everything into chaos, or so it seemed at times. Jim would trust no one else in his engine room, knowing that for Scotty, the Enterprise and its mostly human cargo were irreplaceable and he put every effort towards ensuring that the Enterprise did what it needed to in order to keep its people alive, coaxing out things that Jim was pretty sure broke at least some of the laws of physics. Uhura was a strange mix between a mother and sister; she was the one that always had the best advice for people, considering she could understand people almost as well as she understood over forty languages. Jim didn’t know what he’d do without her fierce intelligence and fire, so often the voice of wisdom amongst so many men.  
  
Then there was Spock.  
  
When he’d experienced the mind meld on Delta Vega, he hadn’t expected the undercurrent of trust, of joy, of something deep and warm and _pure_. It was more than friendship, more than brotherhood, all encompassing and absolute. It was the only thing that had tempered the barrage of self-loathing and guilt, the sheer agony of what Nero had put the elder Spock through. _That_ was another source of fodder for his nightmares. However, those deep and absolute feelings had made Jim believe what the half-Vulcan’s words hadn’t- “I have been, and always shall be, your friend.” It had sounded so simple, so easy that Jim hadn’t believed him, especially considering who he claimed to be. When taken with those feeling underneath, the feeling that he could become something more, something better than the half-broken child he’d been at the time, it was exhilarating. The only drawback was that the half-Vulcan who had been involved in the mind meld was not the one that he worked with every day, and the experiences Spock- his Spock, his current First Officer- had different than that of his elder counterpart, plain and simple.  
  
Often, Jim had no idea what he was supposed to think. The starting point had been easy enough- Jim had explained his actions, Spock had explained his. They’d sat down like rational people and worked for nearly a week straight to attempt to understand the convoluted and meandering path that they’d somehow taken to get to where they were. It hadn’t been easy, and more than once Jim wanted to storm out in frustration, in rage, at the inability to get through to Spock, and Jim was sure that Spock had felt the same, even if he hadn‘t shown it. That week had been filled with hesitant apologizes and painfully awkward silences that had Jim wondering if it was really worth it, worth it to achieve even a pale imitation of the blaze he‘d seen in the other‘s mind.   
  
Then they’d mostly gone their separate ways at the Academy, as everyone struggled to rebuild and repair the damage, as they finished up classes, as they attempted to explain their actions to Starfleet and finally, _finally_ graduated. Jim had hardly a moment to spare for anything, let alone an uninterrupted conversation. He’d thought they made progress however, enough that he’d fought, tooth and nail for Spock as his First Officer, when he was finally, unbelievably and against all odds made the captain of the Constitution Class starship Enterprise, NCC-1701, wanting someone who could banter with him, who could temper his emotion, who could be his other half on the bridge. And sure, if they somehow managed to form a connection like he’d seen in the elder Spock’s mind, well, all the more power to them, even if it didn’t quite go into the…physical relationship their counterpoints had had. Jim knew that enough things had changed between their worlds not to particularly desire that development at this point, feeling almost neutral about the idea of being with Spock. As it was, enough things had changed between the two universes that he didn’t even know if it was in the cards, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste time worrying about it- he had plenty of other things to worry about as it was. Having Spock as a friend would be enough. Jim shook his head at little the thought and tried to regain control of his wandering thoughts, gazing around at his ship, taking in the sleek lines of her bridge.  
  
The _Enterprise_.  
  
The taste of absolute joy that had come with the knowledge that he would some day soon be able to call the Enterprise his own was enough for him to begin trying to convince Spock that going back to Vulcan wouldn’t do the most good. He needed to be out there traveling in the darkness between planets and stars, making discoveries, changing the world, not dwelling on past mistakes and suffering as the strange mix of outcast and hero that the other Vulcans seemed to view him as. Spock had resisted, to the very end- Jim, to this day, had no idea as to why the half-Vulcan had agreed to be a member of his crew. He’d thought at first that the Admiralty had made him come aboard, a way of keeping tabs of their youngest and in a way, least qualified, captain, for all that he’d saved the world and avenged his father in the process. Though he’d discarded that notion, he’d not yet figured out the true reason for his return, yet another mystery concerning Spock’s behavior.  
  
“Captain?” the object of his musing said, startling Jim.  
  
“Oh! Sorry. Just a little lost in thought there.”  
  
“I can understand how taxing it must be, when you experience thought so rarely,” Uhura quipped right on cue.  
  
“Such kind words!” Jim retorted with a grin. “My heart, be still! I don’t know how I shall ever get on without your sweet and charming words getting me through the day!” Jim continued sardonically.  
  
Uhura opened her mouth to give a witty rejoinder, taking enjoyment from their false mockery and flirtations, but was stopped by another voice. “Captain,” Spock said a second time in order to regain his attention.  
  
“Yes, Mr. Spock?” Jim said, turning fully to face his first officer. “What can I do you for?”  
  
Spock only looked confused at the phrase for the barest hint of a second, but it made a smile blossom on Jim’s face. Spock raised an eyebrow in response, and then said, voice calm and even, “We just received the go ahead from Starfleet to investigate Ophella-b.”  
  
Jim whistled. “Great!” he exclaimed. “Starfleet just made a lot of our astrophysicists exceedingly happy! Did you alert Ambassador Sarek to the slight change in our plans?”  
  
Spock inclined his head. “I informed him that we will be deviating from our schedule for two days in order to examine the phenomenon. Since he is not expected to return to his ambassadorial duties for another three weeks, we will have plenty of time to make the appropriate observations and studies before we need to return to Earth.”   
  
New Vulcan, while not exactly in the optimum state of affairs, was certainly developing as quickly and as well as anyone could have hoped, and it was generally agreed by all concerned that the Vulcans needed to re-establish their ties with the Federation, as much as to gain support as to work against attacks of similar scale that might happen in the future. As a result, the Enterprise had been asked to bring the Vulcan Ambassador back to Earth, a show of solidarity, since the Enterprise was the very ship that had saved the Vulcan Elders over an Earth year ago, though not quite a Vulcan year. There had been some debate as to whether it should be Sarek who fulfilled the duties of Vulcan Ambassador, considering that he was one of the Elders and in and of himself a wealth of cultural knowledge. However, it had been decided by the Vulcan High Council that his work as Ambassador was irreplaceable, especially considering he would be able to record and sent to New Vulcan any and all relevant information. It wasn’t a perfect solution, not by a long shot, but it was the one that they had for now.   
  
They didn’t have much of a choice, either; there weren’t a lot of Vulcans willing to step into the role either, as all of the 15,627 Vulcans that had survived were occupied with some role to help their people, from building schools to growing food to organizing the volunteers that had been helping. Surprisingly, the events of the Narada Incident had also resulted in the largest influx of Vulcan applicants to Starfleet in the last three centuries. It seemed that the Vulcan people, instead of continuing the isolationist mindset that had dominated for the past several hundred years, desired to go out, to see the universe that had nearly been taken from them, to help others as they themselves had been helped, to find a way to protect what they’d fought so hard to earn. Of course, there were some who desired that they close themselves off entirely, return to the old ways, but the younger generation were unwilling to accept that, growing past the boundaries being set by them, merging their culture into new shapes out of necessity and changing themselves as a result.  
  
Jim’s mind boggled at the struggle that lay ahead of them, the scope of what had been accomplished and what still had to be accomplished, the ways things had changed and stayed the same. The Vulcan people were changing in ways they couldn’t yet realize, altered by their experience. They were being forced to make concessions when they normally wouldn’t, caught between what was old and safe and what was new and potentially dangerous. Jim’s mind wasn’t just boggled- it couldn’t even wrap itself around what the Vulcans must be feeling, must be going through. He saw it echoed occasionally in the clenching of Spock’s jaw, in the ways his eyes would sometimes go dark. What he received from the elder Spock in the meld he could only view as an imitation, a mockery. He might have experienced it, felt the emotions but it was a brief thing; Jim didn’t have the people, the experiences, the minute details that would have made it seem real. It was…Jim didn’t know what it was, so he tried to deal with it as best as he could.  
  
Jim put his thoughts of New Vulcan out of his head and nodded at Spock‘s words, seating himself in the Captain’s chair, glad that his First Officer already passed the news of their slight delay onto his father. It would be one less thing to remember to do later. “Can you send a message to all relevant parties asking them to assemble for a meeting this afternoon…” Jim worried his lip, mentally arranging and rearranging his schedule, “at 15:45? I trust that you‘ve sent the authorization of Starfleet‘s orders to my PADD so I can sign off on it?”  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow, as if Jim shouldn’t have even bothered to ask. Jim half-smiled and raised a hand to forestall any comment Spock could have made before saying, “Don’t answer that. I’ll sign off on it before the meeting and make sure it’s send out with the daily communiqué.” Even as he spoke, he pulled his PADD out of the pocket on the side of the captain’s chair and began scrolling through the messages. Even though he‘d left the bridge with only twenty or so files on his PADD, already he had over one hundred and fifty new messages, reports and the like waiting for him. “Chekov, can you start plotting a course to Ophella-b? Sulu, take us into warp two until the calculations are done, and then up it to warp four, and tell Mr. Scott about the change. Spock, when we get in range, make sure that all the scans are sent to me along with the compiled reports.”  
  
Everyone snapped to their work, calling out orders through the communication system of the Enterprise. When he got confirmations for all of his orders he perused his paperwork, signing off on the innumerous reports that seemed to be generated each day. He signed off report after report from the captain’s chair, sending each finished report to Uhura’s terminal to be compiled, encoded and sent through subspace to Starfleet. That only took him until midmorning, however, so he occupied his time by re-reading the application that the scientists had submitted to examine the Ophella-b system.  
  
It was interesting stuff, Jim had to admit, from an astrophysics perspective. Ophella-b’s main star was a blazing blue giant in the prime of its life. Unlike most other stars of that size and temperature, however, Ophella-b had a full planetary system with seven planets. The basic readings on their way past the system the first time had indicated that the first four planets were mostly like Mercury, in the Earth’s solar system, melted to slag due to their close proximity to the intense sun, without even a semblance of an atmosphere and poisoned by radiation from the star. The next was a gas giant, a gorgeous pale violet that came from an unusually high amount of potassium, rubidium and cesium present in its atmosphere. Like the inner planets, it was equally bereft of anything resembling life.  
  
The last two, however, were enormously interesting. The furthest out, the seventh planet, had geysers spewing some sort of water-but-not-really-water molecule that his chemists, both organic and inorganic, were slavering over; they wanted to collect some samples to study. It was the sixth planet, however, that had captured the attention of not only the astrophysicists, but the biologists, chemists, geologists and environmentalists. It was situated in what the scientists still liked to call the ‘safety zone’, the distance between the planet and star that resulted in a hospitable environment. For a little G0 like the Sun, an approximate distance of one hundred and fifty million kilometers produced a habitable planet. For Vulcan, it had been somewhere around ninety million kilometers, due to the fact that their star was a white dwarf.  
  
For the blue giant Ophella-b, it’s habitable range was something that was practically obscene, in Jim’s opinion- the sixth planet was three hundred and twenty million kilometers from the sun, and that was still towards the inner edge of the habitable zone. Other basic readings- the presence of an atmosphere, water, and what seemed to be complex organic molecules- indicated that there was a possibility of life being found on Ophella-b VI. The scientists were dying to check it out, since so few blue giants managed to keep a proper planetary system. Usually, the blue giant vaporized any stray bits of rock or planets, assuming that they managed to escape in the first place during the gravitational pull when the star was forming. If they managed to find life here, in the A3 type star of Ophella-b, it would help redefine the parameters of where life could be found, and would very likely redefine what the Federation viewed as life in general.  
  
It was the sort of opportunity that the Federation wasn’t willing to give up, even if it meant that Ambassador Sarek returned to Earth from New Vulcan a day or two later than expected.  
  
Jim’s meeting went as smoothly as such things ever did; the issue of Ophella-b VII was easily resolved; Enterprise would do a close flyby, sending out a probe to collect samples and data before returning to the Enterprise. Ophella-b VI was less clear cut. It was agreed by all parties that the first step should be a flyby, to more closely examine the planet and get more accurate readings about the atmospheric makeup, the presence of water, soil composition and the like, as well as give them a better idea as to the chances that life had flourished on the planet; a flyby would also allow for a visual confirmation that there was land to beam down on, that it wasn’t a planet solely of oceans.   
  
From there the issue of what to do was less clear cut. Unfortunately, the star’s radiation prevented the use of the truly specific scans for evidence of life, their readings hopelessly jumbled and thus useless for making a concrete determination. They would have to examine the planet with a fine toothed comb with various types of planet-bound scans to say for certain that there was no life; not only did Jim have to get Ambassador Sarek back to Earth, but there was no surefire way to know that the natives were warp capable from outer space, assuming there were natives there. Satellites and space stations were usually a good indicator that there was at least some sort of life, but Jim had seen civilizations that had such streamlined technology that such things as satellites weren’t needed and thus removed from the outer atmosphere as the natives felt it they cluttered space in a wholly unnecessary way. Likewise, he’d also seen civilizations that had stalled upon reaching space, that had never truly been interested in developing the capacity to see what was out there. Whatever the reason, there were no satellites or space stations orbiting the planet- nothing but a small moon about fifteen kilometers across, and thus there was no way to say for certain if there was sentient life present or not without beaming down and running a set of fairly lengthy and involved tests. Jim couldn’t afford to spend that much time exploring the planet, not when he had other duties to attend to.  
  
However, they had been trained for this, trained for first encounters of all sorts, and Jim could see no real reason not to explore the planet’s surface for at least a short amount of time if it was deemed safe. If they found sentient life, so be it. If not, they could send their findings off the Starfleet and let them send a ship to the planet to do a better search than the Enterprise was able to at the moment. Thus, at the end of the day and after all the deliberations, it was concluded that when they reached the planet in two day’s time, a team would be sent down, including Spock, Jim, Lieutenants Littlefoot and Babson from the chemistry department, as well as Lieutenant Commander Ita’ki from biology and Ensign Jacobson from geology. From security there was Ensign Giotto and Lieutenants Olin, Imari and Kktch. Medical had been alerted as to the details of the impending mission, for which Bones only had a tetchy, “Well, don’t die” to send in reply. Jim ignored his friend’s response, because Bones tended to blow things out of proportion, such as the amount of time he’d spent in medical over the last year.  
  
They reached the system within forty seven hours, ship standard time, and immediately banked towards the outer edges in order to collect the first set of samples. By the time the samples had been collected, it was the middle of beta shift, and Jim made plans for him and his team to head down at the start of alpha shift, giving everyone on the party plenty of time to prepare and rest before heading down to the planet.  
  
The first glimpse of the planet was promising; the planet definitely had a crust, with both land and water present, but unlike the green of earth, this planet was a study in contrast. The oceans were blue, as expected from bodies of liquid composed of mostly water, but the land was covered in shades of orange, red, and yellow, as if there was a forest across the entire planet, and that forest was currently experiencing the height of fall. It was beautiful, to be honest, in all its conflicting glory, and Jim found himself excited to go down and see what the cause of the color was.  
  
Scotty was waiting for them in the transporter room, grinning broadly. “Capt’n!” he called, face brightening even more. “I see you’ve got everyone and a monkey’s uncle ready for today!”  
  
Jim grinned back at him easily even as he and the others made for their positions on the transporter pad. “It only seems that way,” he assured the Scotsman. “Just taking precautionary measures. The star’s radiation is messing a little with our life-sign scans, so we can’t tell for sure if there’s life. If there is, well, it’s always better to err on the side of caution, right? We’re just going to beam down for a brief look around, so we can send some information back to Starfleet when they’re able to send a party to take a closer look. Even if there’s just plant life and basic microbes, it’ll still be the first time such a thing has been found around a blue giant,” Jim finished, a little bounce in his step.  
  
“Exciting business, then. Off ya go,” Scotty announced happily. He fiddled with the controls for a minute or two while everyone made sure that they were prepared for beaming. When the Scot was satisfied with the controls, he looked up, face becoming more serious. “Ready when you are, Capt’n.”  
  
Jim nodded, face schooling itself. “Energize,” he commanded.  
  
Everything vanished in a blaze of light.  
  


~*~

Everything reappeared in a blaze of gold.

Not true gold, but a yellow the same color as the purest gold made up the color of the…

For a matter of fact, what were they?

“Plant life,” one of the biologists breathed, eyes shining with excitement. “It looks like a mangrove!”

Indeed, it did. The trees- for Jim thought of them privately as just another kind of tree- looked almost as though someone had dug around the roots; the trunk split into several roots about a meter before it reached the ground, without a main core to support the body. The roots wound about each other to make the trunk itself, and then split again in the air somewhere between ten and fifty meters in the air, where they sprouted a riot of brilliant red flowers in full bloom, complete with orange leaves. While some of the roots- branches?- Jim wasn’t sure what to call them, simply reached toward the sky in all their flowered glory, others curved in arcs, coming down to become part of the trunk of yet another tree.

It was breathtaking- an entire network, spread as far as the eye could see, trees winding about each other gracefully. Jim gazed around himself in wonder, turning in a slow circle, absently noting the location of all this crewmembers (within fifteen meters for now, as per protocol) even as he took in the fact that there were tiny white blossoms amongst the ruby red ones, barely visible when there was so much color present. Of course, even the green of the grass beneath their feet barely registered as they all attempted to take in the sheer size of the tree network. “Wow,” he breathed aloud. “Do you think these cover the entire land? I mean, the color seems to indicate that it does.”

Spock came over to him, looking a little pale. “It is a distinct possibility, Captain,” he confirmed.

Jim looked askance at Spock, noting instantly that while the words were as calm and cool as ever, there was a certain breathlessness to the words. “Mr. Spock?” he said, turning to face him warily. “Is there something wrong?” he asked, concerned. Lieutenant Imari came over at the words.

“Captain?” she asked, face a mask.

Spock shook his head. “The percentage of oxygen in this atmosphere is merely higher than what my body is accustomed to,” he explained, sounding supremely unconcerned. “I will begin regulating how often I breathe in order to compensate and only intake the concentration of oxygen to which I am accustomed. The problem will then be resolved.”

Jim bit his lip. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that Spock could do exactly what he said he was going to do- Vulcans could do some pretty freaky things to control their body, due to their intense meditation and self control techniques- but he didn’t like the slight green flush that was creeping up into Spock’s cheeks. _Is flushing a sign of oxygen poisoning?_ he wondered even as he nodded at Spock’s statement. “Very good, Mr. Spock. Just please let me know if you begin to feel the signs of oxygen poisoning or anything else, so we can get you back aboard the ship and to medical attention. In addition, I would feel much more comfortable if a member of security attended to you at all times, should something happen and you are unable to contact us.”

There was a mutinous set to Spock’s mouth, and Jim knew he was practically itching to assure Jim that he would be perfectly fine, that his control absolutely would not fail him, but Jim couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more wrong than just an intake of too much oxygen. Surely such a thing wouldn’t affect him so quickly, even if Spock grew up on Vulcan, where the planet’s atmosphere was ten percent thinner on average. Jim shook his head, then took a step back. It wasn’t his business; he had to trust that his First Officer knew his body well enough to tell what was wrong. “Very well, Captain,” Spock said after a long few seconds.

Jim nodded, relieved. “Very good,” he said aloud, wondering why he broke into a cold sweat at the mere thought of something being not quite right with his First Officer. He told himself to shake out of it, and attended to the scientists, who were simply agog at their readings. Jim listened to them solemnly, taking in their frequent references to “sentient networks” and “largest species of plant life” and “fascinating readings”. Finally he held up a hand. “So I take it that Starfleet should be extremely interested in this planet?” he asked of them with a chuckle.

Lieutenant Commander Ita’ki rolled its eyes. “I would deem that the most brilliant deduction you’ve made in a while, sir.” Then it dropped any pretense of sarcasm to say eagerly, “How long can we stay? We want to see what kind of variant plant life there is, if any, and determine if the area has any sentient life that would be able to communicate with us.”

Jim thought carefully, weighing the pros and cons. “If nothing happens for the next two hours, I’ll authorize a proper science team to spend an additional ten hours investigating, but I’m afraid that’s all the time that we can spare for this mission,” he said.

The lieutenant commander smiled, showing the flat bone plate of its species in all its full glory. “Thank you, sir!” It returned happily.

Jim’s face softened as he looked on as lieutenant commander returned to its scans. He always felt good, being able to make someone’s day like that. The scientists got more and more involved in their readings, and they spread further and further apart, though they stayed in radio contact, while Jim established communications with the Enterprise and relayed the basic findings, as well as authorizing the tentative assembly of full a science team and a second security team to beam down in about two hour’s time if the planet was shown to be safe.

He checked in with everyone on the planet to ensure nothing of note had happened while he’d been in contact with the Enterprise, and then tracked down Spock, unable to shake the feeling that something more was wrong. Jim followed his trail through the winding paths of the trees, the brilliant blue of his shirt standing out far more than that of Jim’s own pale gold or that of security’s dark red; amongst the trunks and leaves they practically blended in.

When he finally caught up to them, Jim gasped; what he’d thought was Spock’s shirt was in fact an enormous version of the trees all around them; instead of the warmer shades of color, however, this tree was full of enormous blues and purples, dark against the gold of the trunk. The tree was perhaps three times as large and as tall as its neighbors, branches arching gracefully. Jim gazed into the canopy above him; the transition from the amethyst blooms to the ruby ones was so gradual it seemed almost seamless, the colors as intense as those used in the most brilliant of paintings.

Jim was so caught up in the glory of the plant before him that he almost missed the pale sheen on Spock’s face, the way his hands clutched at the side where his heart rested, his labored breathing. Spock was standing next to the tree, tricorder lying in the grass as Lieutenant Commander Imari moved to support the First Officer. Jim was sprinting forward almost before he consciously realized that Spock was ill, as though some sixth sense had allowed him to tune into the change in his friend.

Between himself and Lieutenant Imari, they were able to lower the wheezing Spock to the ground. His eyes were unfocused, as if he was staring at something that only he could see. He made a small, inarticulate sound and flinched as though he wanted to curl up. Jim had his communicator out within seconds, heart racing and mind working through all the possibilities that could have caused this. “Mr. Scott!” Without waiting for the man’s confirmation of his presence, he continued, “Beam Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Imari up now. Contact medical and have them send a team down to the transporter room five minutes ago. Tell them Spock had some trouble breathing and collapsed, but none of the rest of us are feeling symptoms of any illness at this time. Once you‘ve got them up there, wait for my signal to beam up the rest of us; I need to get into radio contact with them and alert them as to the change in situation so they‘ll stay still for transportation.” he ordered, knowing his voice might as well have frost coming off it for how cold it was. It wasn’t Jim that was speaking, it was Captain Kirk, who was working to prevent a crewmembers death, who was trying to figure out what had happened, who was attempting to ferret out clues that he might have missed that had led to their current situation.

“Aye, Capt’n!” came Scotty’s burr, sounding worried. Jim breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders relaxing as white sparks began swirling around Spock’s prone form, as well as Imari‘s. He was already flipping open his communicator, on the verge of barking out order when Spock heaved in a breath and partially sat up, nearly knocking the security officer on the head.

“Captain!” Spock gasped and the word rasped in his throat even as his component molecules began breaking down. “Be caref-”

The pair dissolved in a shower of sparks, and Jim was left alone in the glade, immediately glancing nervously around him, apprehensive in the silent forest that he only now realized was perhaps too silent, flipping his communicator and immediately calling for all teams to standby and await transport back to the Enterprise. Immediately there was confusion, pouring over the line. He didn’t have time to deal with their protests, especially not when Spock had attempted to warn him of something. “Mr. Spock is down,” he nearly growled, eyes darting around the glade, trying to figure out the source of the danger that Spock had sensed as his hand clenched the comm so tightly that the plastic casing was protesting.

His response had shut them up quickly enough. “Mr. Scott, we are ready for transport. Beam us up!” Jim called, heart palpitating in his chest. _What had Spock meant by be careful, why had he collapsed?_ Jim’s breath came quicker, laboring and his chest began to ache slightly. _Am I taking in too much oxygen? Jim wondered absently. Is this the beginnings of oxygen poisoning? Is that the reason for all this?_ Jim tried to dismiss it as simple fear and unconscious mimicry of Spock’s illness, but the tightness in his chest just got worse.

He dropped to one knee just as the transporter sparks began whirling around his body obscuring his vision- but not so much that he didn’t see the enormous sapphire and amethyst tree in front of him begin shuddering, leaves and flowers and branches shaking tremulously. Jim gaped at the life the tree displayed, scrambling back at the display of autonomy, causing the transport to lose its lock on his signal, dissipating the sparks temporarily.

“Capt’n! You’ve got to stay still!” Mr. Scott was screaming through the communicator. Jim knew he was right. Though transporters could now, thanks to Chekov’s reprogramming, compensate for things such as gravitational pull as people fell in freefall, there was no way to properly compensate for uncontrolled movement, such as running, for there was no way to know for sure the correct trajectory, and compensating by hand would mean that Mr. Scott would lose the ability to pull the others back to the Enterprise.

For now, it was him, or them.

Even as Jim struggled to move away from the tree through the pressure on his chest, he was lifting his communicator off his belt, shouting for Scotty to beam the others up, that he couldn’t stop running quite yet. That brought Uhura back to the comm, calling to question about the danger, but Jim couldn’t answer her, unable to breathe through the pressure on his chest. It was a terrible mix of confusion, dread, fear and anxiety. It sounded like how his mother used to describe the mild panic attacks she’d had when he was a child, trying to get through the pain of losing her husband, of the planet-bound life she now lived, of Jim himself. He dropped to one knee, focusing solely on inhaling and exhaling at a steady rate, sluggishly remembering that controlling his breathing was supposed to help. Behind him, dimly, he realized that the tree had stopped shaking, though he hadn’t managed to get much beyond the clearing around the tree before he’d stopped.

He put a hand to his chest, thoughts racing. He didn’t consciously feel afraid, or anxious, or any of the emotions that made it hard for people to breathe when they were in a stressful situation. His thoughts weren’t particularly panicked, and though he was incredibly worried about Spock, Jim had been calm in far worse situations, such as when Spock had been bleeding green on the ground before him or when he was being tortured. Yet here, just the collapse of his First Officer seemed to have instigated some sort of panic attack.

He struggled to turn, to lean up against one of the trees when he realized that he didn’t have the strength to support himself any longer. His own breath rasped in his ears as dark spots danced across his vision, and he knew that he was perhaps thirty seconds away from blacking out. Scotty was shouting through his comm, and Jim knew that he should pick it up and order the man to beam him up, but Jim’s limbs were like lead. He gazed up at the canopy of trees, wondering at the fact that he was able to see the sky at all through the riot of flowers and branches. Something dark obscured his vision- a face, perhaps, looking down at him.

The pressure on his chest increased suddenly, as if a rock had been dropped on it before he made a last desperate bid for effort, his vision blackening completely as he fainted.


	4. For All Those Doubts That Swirl Around Us

Adults always seemed to think that just because they were whispering, or just because they spoke when a child was asleep, or gone, or any of the other things adults liked to delude themselves into believing when it came to children, they thought that the kids didn’t hear.  
  
They were wrong, of course. There is no force in the known universe that can truly stop a child from sensing, even in the most basic ways, when something is terribly wrong.  
  
It was like that for all the kids, as a matter of fact. Sometimes the adults didn’t even bother to lower their voices, which Jimmy thought was nigh the height of stupidity, even for adults. “Hello!” he wanted to shout at them when they gave him sad looks as though he didn’t understand what they were talking about. “I’m a genius! I’m on Tarsus IV because Governor Kodos runs a camp every year for the best and the brightest, because I figured out how to build a computer at eight, hotwire a car at nine, break into Starfleet’s records at ten, read every book in the library by eleven, and was working on linear algebra by twelve. I’m _smart_ you freaking dipshits, and just because you’re talking around the corner doesn’t mean we can’t all hear you!” Jimmy would probably say more, do more, but he didn’t quite dare, because then they might drag him up in front of Governor Kodos and make him try to explain his behavior. In Jimmy’s opinion, Governor Kodos was weird. He visited the camp once a week, to see how everyone was progressing, but he was always just a little too cool, a little too austere, a little to distant for Jimmy to ever really like him. Jimmy had long since decided it didn’t matter, however, so long as it kept him off Earth and away from the lunatic his mom had married.  
  
This opportunity has really been a blessing, for all his complaints. Tensions had been getting high at home; Jimmy thought that Frank was little more than a beer-guzzling imbecile, Frank thought that Jimmy was little more than a wiseass punk, and Winona didn’t want to agree with either of them, gently pointing out that they were both in the wrong. Neither her son nor her husband were willing to listen to her, and the stress it put on the house was beginning to tear them apart. Frank hadn’t hit him, not quite yet, but Jimmy suspected that he’d dearly wanted to on more than one occasion, but had only refrained himself because he knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he dared to lay a finger on either of her boys, Winona would rip out his entrails and feed them to the carrion birds and then laugh at his pain. Until that time came, however, Winona tried her best to mediate the rocky relationship between her second husband and her youngest son, wearing herself thin trying to make them coexist peacefully.  
  
Jimmy had wanted nothing more than to get out of Iowa for even a month or two, needing to get away from his mom’s always sad eyes and Frank’s temper. He even wanted to get away from Sam, as his brother was absolutely no help. Sam ignored everyone in the house, keeping his own time and his own schedule. Since he was graduating high school early and headed off to college within the year, he was almost beneath the attention of either Frank or their mom- instead, all their energy was dedicated to keeping Jim in line, a fact that strained the brother’s relationship even more. Thus, when Jimmy had heard about Tarsus IV, it had seemed like a perfect opportunity. He’d be able to get out of the house for a while, do what he wanted. His teachers, who viewed him as little more than a precocious troublemaker, genius IQ not withstanding, had been more than happy to recommend Jimmy to the program Kodos was running, if it meant getting him out of the school. Each year, the top twenty students from ages ten to twenty who completed the tests that Kodos devised, which covered a variety of topics such as science, engineering, math, language, music and so on were invited to come to Tarsus IV and study what they wished; it was his attempt to get more people interested in the outlying colonies, and he called it the Colony Outreach Program.  
  
Too often those outer colonies were ignored, even by those with the best intentions. They were so far out that even Starfleet rarely flew there, so far out that not many people were willing to leave from a place where they had family, a history, in order to start from scratch, in some cases literally. Kodos was making an effort to get people interested in coming to Tarsus IV despite the colonial status; by welcoming young geniuses into his fold, he hoped that he would be able to stir more interest and empathy for those on what too often seemed to be the outer reaches of the universe.  
  
For Jimmy, it was the perfect escape. If he was accepted, everything would be paid for, including his travel expenses and food. He would even be granted a small stipend for buying what he wished, though any major expenses or medical bills were still considered to be the responsibility of the parents or organization from which the child came. It would last for eight months, since it took the better part of a month to get all the way out to Tarsus IV and another month coming back, and it was the best solution to his troubles that Jimmy could imagine.  
  
Or so he’d thought.  
  
Now though- now there were too many whispers for Jimmy to be comfortable with being on Tarsus IV, too many adults casting a worried eye over the “campers”. Even Kodos had been stiffer than usual the last three weeks, his deep, resonant voice carrying dark hints that warned Jimmy that it probably wouldn’t be safe to be alone with him these days, so Jimmy did his best to avoid all but the most mandatory of interactions. Though Jimmy didn’t catch too many whispers himself, the between him and the rest of the students in Kodos‘s camp, they’d managed to put most of the pieces together about two months into their eight month stay.  
  
There’d been a plague spreading through the food supply like wild fire. All the grain not yet in storage had been consumed by the greedy fungus, and there was evidence to suggest that a large portion of the vegetable crop was next. Kodos had all his scientists on it, demanding that they drop all other projects and focus on working on a solution for the better part of twelve hours a day, if not more- not that any of them were complaining. The stark reality was that if they _didn’t_ solve this, they would all die of starvation long before they are able to successfully alert Starfleet and actually get relief supplies. The local wild life was perishing too, so everything was getting more and more expensive. It wasn’t like they had any ships to alert neighbors for help either- besides, who would they call, when the nearest colony was the better part of a hundred light years away, and who’s food supply would be tight enough for their own people?  
  
Though he tried not to, Jimmy worried a lot, at night especially, and had trouble sleeping, waking up with nightmares filled with thin bodies and crying babies, because he’d read about the effects of starvation, of what it did to the body, and he felt a constant undercurrent of nausea every time he ate, a small part of him wondering how bad it was, wondering if this would be his last meal. Whispers were the damndest thing- it seemed like the more people whispered about the so called secret, the more people knew. It was practically public knowledge that until Starfleet got there, what food they had was pretty much the only food that they were ever going to be able to collect from the farms, unless the scientists came up with a miracle solution. Even so, until someone said it aloud, until it was openly acknowledged, it was still only rumor and hearsay. Admittedly, it was rumor and hearsay that everyone accepted as truth, but people had been proved wrong before and they would be again.  
  
All in all, it was pretty bad, though, and what proof they did have was pretty damn undeniable. It would still be a month before the message about the famine reached Starfleet, perhaps another three or four at minimum before they could raise the necessary supplies to bring to Tarsus IV, and then another month to bring it all out here; in a best case scenario, they were looking at about six months before aid was brought, maybe more.  
  
Still, the camp wasn’t half bad, everything else aside. For the first time in his life, Jimmy was actually getting along with the other kids he was with, because they were mostly on the younger side, all really precocious like him, but none of them were really fighters the same way Jimmy was. Sure, they could fillet you with a well placed verb, and might take an unholy satisfaction in fixing your equation’s mistakes, but generally, they were all like him, misfits, of some sort or another. Of the twenty students, though, Jimmy was only really close to a couple of them, because though Jimmy didn’t outright attack them, he still felt weird around some of the people in the program, the older students especially, as he didn’t know how to approach them or talk to them. Some of them were even more messed up than he was, in his opinion, flinching at shadows.  
  
Even so, for the first time he could remember, he had friends. There were Karrin and O’las, Karrin from Mars and O’las from Kavonna; they’d met on the ship coming over the Tarsus IV, and the pair of them were two peas in a pod- same interest in music, in books, in hobbies, and if they weren’t two of the sweetest people he’d ever met, he’d have teased them a million times over about the fact that they clearly ought to just get married if they were going to act like an old married couple, for all they were fourteen. Then there was Savik, an Andorian who was constantly biting off more than he could chew, and cheeky to boot. Jimmy probably would’ve hated him the entire time had he not found the boy (or rather, Andorian gender equivalent thereof) crying in the gardens. Since then, he’d taken pity on Savik and was currently endeavoring to show him how to have fun, which Jim had quickly discovered was the only time that he wasn’t an ass, even if these days he was more a well-meaning ass than anything else. Finally, there was Big J, which was short for Jabulani Jawanza, which was far too much of a mouthful for everyday speech, and had been shortened to JJ within hours of everyone meeting. Big J, however, was not only the oldest kid of the group, at seventeen, but also the biggest, at nearly seven feet tall, all lanky limbs and muscle. He reminded Jimmy of nothing so much as the Big Friendly Giant, however, and thus Big J had been born. Jimmy liked hanging out with Big J the best, because he was the most patient individual that Jimmy had ever met, willing answering even the most inane of Jimmy’s questions- or those of anyone else, for that matter- in addition to helping with everyone’s projects, helping keep an eye on the younger children, and generally making himself useful. Jimmy admired Big J, and wanted like hell to be like him.  
  
The five of them hung out a lot, sharing slowly but surely the painful little things that had made them come out here, to infinity and beyond. Big J’s family dying from Pierce‘s fever, Karrin’s bullying at school that had led to a suicide attempt, Savik’s issues with anger management, O’las’s simple interest in seeing more of the world after being stuck in a small hometown with small-minded people. Jimmy was a little like all of them, and told them so, though he didn’t quite dare mention the fact that his father was George Kirk. They were geniuses, they’d probably put it together within days if they hadn’t already, but they also respected privacy, even that horrible privacy-that-wasn’t-really-privacy that had come in the wake of the Kelvin disaster.   
  
So they chugged along, caught up in this strange dichotomy where they were friends with each other, where they hung out and made each other laugh as if this was just a vacation that they had earned for everything they‘d been put through in the last couple of years. On the other hand, the whispers were an ever-present fear tingling in the back of all their minds, causing nightmares and suspicion to take over their minds. It got to the point that Jimmy almost wished that Kodos would just come out and say what they were all thinking, because it would be easier to deal with if the problem was acknowledged, out in the open. He certainly knew that holding it in sure as hell didn’t help at home- if he held it in, if Frank did, then when the explosion _did happen_ , it was all the worse for having been restrained for so long.  
  
Jimmy thought that way right up until that was what actually happened.   
  
Because once the truth was out, all hell broke loose.  
  
It began when Kodos assembled the entire planet at the Governor’s estate, a huge sprawling affair that Jimmy had always thought was rather overdone; he’d always preferred sleek lines and understated grace. He’d always thought it expressed more power than sheer overwhelming opulence- after all, screaming from the rooftops that you‘re rich is considerably less classy than impressing everyone in sight without have to breath so much as a word. Jimmy wondered what Kodos was going to say to them all; he and the others from Kodos’s program were assembled too, joining the 8,216 men, women, and children already in attendance.  
  
“Welcome!” Kodos said from his balcony, spreading his hands in a grandiose gesture of greeting. Jimmy nearly snorted, as the man’s overblown, somewhat pompous image was confirmed in his inner thoughts. Kodos was wearing a frilly number that Jimmy thought belonged more on an actor than a governor. They were all looking up at him from his courtyard and gardens, vids set up so everyone would be able to see and hear him clearly; Jimmy and the others were near the front, and could see the man himself.  
  
“Welcome, members of Tarsus IV!” Kodos called, and again Jimmy had to resist the urge to snort. Did Kodos think that they didn’t know what planet they were on? Bored, he began looking around even as he listened, watching as a little girl picked her nose and scowled at her finger. A mother shushed a small child, rocking him back and forth absentmindedly as she focused on the vid near her.  
  
“Jimmy Kirk!” Abby hissed, matronly face creasing in a scowl as she elbowed him. Jimmy dodged the blow on instinct, scowling just as heavily at the woman in charge of the program. “Listen!” she demanded.  
  
With a sigh, Jimmy redirected his attention to Kodos. Thus far it was nothing interesting; Kodos had merely confirmed the fact that the plague had destroyed a majority of the food supply, to much gasping and muttering. Jimmy frowned, wondering what the fuss was; now that it was established, couldn’t they just focus on what they were going to do about it? Adults were so annoying, that way. They could deliberate for days when a simple yes or no answer would have sufficed.  
  
Kodos raised a hand for silence. “I realize that I have come bearing bad news, people of Tarsus IV, but first and foremost, I want to assure you all that I have all my people working on a solution at the moment, looking for a way to permanently end the plague and hopefully grow some food in greenhouse conditions to compensate from the loss of part of the harvest. In addition, a message is already on its way to Starfleet, alerting them of our problem and asking for relief ships to come our way. However, in the meantime, I ask that you carefully consider your food purchases until we hear from Starfleet. Thank you for your time; I will continue to send out vids keeping you all updated as to what research we are currently working on as well as our status in regards to Starfleet.” With that, Kodos barely inclined his head and walked back into his home.  
  
The crowds broke into chatter, every single word of the speech being dissected. Jimmy shrugged at it all, even with the worry niggling in his heart. Did they have enough food to survive even the next month, let alone the six or so it would take for Starfleet to get here, in all likeliness? Jimmy shook his head, shivering a little. Surely if they rationed the food, they would be able to keep almost everyone alive; Jimmy wasn’t a pessimist, at least, he didn’t think so. He was a realist, and knew that it was exceedingly probable that at least some of the old and young would lose their lives before this entire mess was over. He swallowed roughly, struggling to stay nonchalant as the hugeness of the situation really began to hit home.   
  
“Jimmy!” Big J intoned, his deep voice rumbling right through Jimmy’s body, making him pay attention instantly. “We’re leaving, come on!”  
  
Jimmy trotted off through the crush of people, dodging flailing limbs with ease as he made his way back to the others in the program. They were waiting for him, each showing a little impatience. “I’m here, I’m here,” Jimmy grumbled at the irritation he was faced with. “Let’s go.”  
  
Everyone sighed or rolled their eyes as their nature dictated and they made their way as a group to the southernmost edges of Kodos’s grounds, where the program labs and dorms were. Everyone was silent as they walked, even bossy Abby and talkative Rukia, when normally it was difficult to get either of them to stop chattering. The silence was uneasy and strained as the reality settled into everyone’s bones.  
  
Famine.  
  
Everyone knew what the word was, but so few had happened in the last seven centuries, and they’d been comparatively mild, so that no one really _knew_ what it was like. They might have read the history, they might know the facts, but to actually attempt to live through it, when they were out here on their own…  
  
Jimmy shuddered, looking ahead without seeing.  
  
They were all silent that night. While they might have laughed when they were heading over to Kodos’s main estates, now there was only strained camaraderie and worried smiles that didn’t reach anyone’s eyes. Dinner was worst of all, as everyone was unsure how to treat the meal in front of them, wondering if it was okay to be eating their fill, wondering what the others on Tarsus IV were eating, as they weren‘t subsisting on the goodwill of Kodos. Everyone did, eventually, eat of course, because they all suspected they should eat the extra food while they could, in order to store whatever they could for what would befall them. Even that thought, however, was…uncomfortable for completely indefinable reasons. It gave the entire room a wild air, as though there were animals prowling next to the sentient beings, as though the sentient beings were no better than animals. Conversation was stilted, and everyone quickly departed from the table, leaving to go to their individual rooms instead of staying up to do any of the numerous activities they normally enjoyed together.  
  
Jimmy was no exception, and he entered his room and stripped down, opening his window a crack to let in the cool late summer air, which was just beginning to be touched with a hint of chill from fall. He leaned on the windowsill, looking out at the stars and wishing dearly that he could get a message out to his mother and brother about what was going on. However, a message wouldn’t reach his mother any faster than the Starfleet message would; since his mom was still in Starfleet as an engineer, she heard all the latest news directly from the source. His message, going through civilian channels, probably wouldn’t reach his mother until at least a month after she’d heard about what was happening.  
  
Jimmy shook his head, unwilling to cause his mom undue stress. She worried about him enough without hearing Jimmy voice aloud his fears about what would happen in the coming months. He angrily dashed away the tears that were welling in his eyes. He hated, _hated_ crying. With an angry set to his shoulders, Jimmy pulled on his pajamas, though it was just turning dark on the northwestern horizon, put on some quiet music and climbed in his bed, focusing on each and every breath as it entered and exited his body, letting the music swirl around him in an effort to soothe away any thoughts that entered his head.  
  
He didn’t think it would work, but somehow, between one breath and another, he fell asleep.  
  
Until, of course, a rude hand shook his shoulder, rocking his entire body back and forth. Jimmy sat up instantly, narrowly avoiding bashing in the head of the person above him with his own. He did not, however, miss bashing them with his fist, on automatic reflex, and the intruder let out a low moan as they stumbled away from him.  
  
“Jimmy, I hope you didn’t do that on purpose,” Big J groaned as he rubbed at his cheek; the blow hadn’t been particularly well aimed, but it had all the energy of panic behind it and thus had been more than enough to cause the older boy pain.  
  
Jimmy automatically leaped out of bed. “Big J!” he exclaimed, running over to peer at the other boy’s face in the dark. “Are you alright?” He cursed, fumbling for the light, but Big J caught his hand before he was able to turn it on.  
  
“No time for that,” Big J rumbled, voice deep and serious. “We’ve got to get out of here.”  
  
Jimmy stilled, gazing at the dark man who nearly disappeared in the shadows. “What? Why?” he asked, hating that he sounded nearly as nervous as he felt. He tried to push down his worry and fear even as a thousand different horrors surfaced in his mind. He swallowed through an unusually dry throat.  
  
Big J hauled him up with next to no effort. “We ain’t got time for that,” he said in his low voice, teeth flashing in the darkness as he spoke. “Abby just told me to get everyone awake, dressed and downstairs as soon as possible.”  
  
Jimmy licked his lips. “Right. Where are we going?” He asked, hoping that a location would give him a better idea as to what might be going on. He heart was starting to beat faster by the minute.  
  
Big J was quiet for a moment. “We’re headed to the Governor’s house,” he said, and his voice was strangely neutral as he said it.  
  
“So I guess I should be putting on my best?” Jimmy tried to joke, but neither of them so much as smiled in the attempt. “Alright, get out of here. I’ll get dressed in a minute and be downstairs.”  
  
Big J nodded. He turned to go and then paused. “No lights though,” he warned, voice going a little rough. “Abby says that we don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves, so the less noticeable we are, the better. We’re…not exactly as well protected as the Governor is.”  
  
It was as though Big J had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. Jimmy started shaking uncontrollably, shivering there in the cool night air. Fear clawed at his stomach and he wondered if he was about to be sick. Big J either saw or sensed his expression, and in the darkness he clapped one huge hand onto Jimmy’s shoulder, the warmth of his hand and the close proximity of his body giving off an almost unnatural sense of heat to Jimmy’s perceived coldness.  
  
“Don’t worry, kid. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Big J promised, and there was a restrained fury underneath it, that someone would dare to cause pain here and now to his friends. Jimmy basked in the safety for a moment, before roughly shoving at Big J’s chest.  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” he returned gruffly. “I can take care of myself.”  
  
“Of course you can, Jimmy,” Big J agreed neutrally, before leaving the room again, presumably to help wake up the rest of the people.  
  
Jimmy didn’t even think- he just thrust his arms through whatever clothing he came to first, which happened to be a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt he’d discarded yesterday when it got too warm but hadn’t ever returned to its drawer, and hurried downstairs, stomach lurching as he wondered what he would find.  
  
Perhaps half of the people in Kodos’s program had been gathered in the main sitting room, sitting or standing awkwardly as their nature dictated, casting glances at each other as if they suspected that someone else had the answer but was refusing to share it. Jimmy could just barely hear a set of voices from the kitchen. One was definitely Abby, but Jimmy didn’t recognize the voice of the other person with her. It sounded like a man though, his voice a warm, medium baritone.  
  
Within ten minutes, everyone was assembled, Big J coming down with the youngest kids, who were still rubbing their eyes and yawning at the interruption to their sleep. Savik looked especially grumpy, as did Gretchen. Abby poked her head into the room a few minutes later, counted the fact that all twenty heads were present, had a whispered and hurried conversation with the person that was with her, and then came back out with him.  
  
The man was perhaps six foot, lean, with dark hair and blue eyes. Jimmy caught himself studying the man, wondering where he’d seen him before, and wondering why he kept picturing him with blond hair. He had the strangest feeling that the man was usually scowling too, and always ready with a witty retort in a soft southern accent. Jimmy shook his head, trying to dispel the notion of déjà vu as he focused on what the man was saying to the entire group.  
  
The man spoke in the southern accent he’d imagined, and Jimmy repressed a shudder at the strangeness. Even though he hadn’t been able to stop himself from imagining his voice, he also couldn’t shake the feeling that it should have been without an accent, clean and crisp. Jimmy shook his head at his own feelings. He stared at the man for a second more, catching a glimpse of a set of bones tattooed on the man’s arm. _Bones_ , Jimmy thought, and then wondered at his fascination, finally applying himself to the man’s speech.  
  
“- waking you up, but Abby said that you were all too smart to follow without opening your mouths, so we figured we should tell you what‘s going on.” the man said. “I’m Doctor Eric Jameson, a friend of Abby’s.” After the brief introduction, the smile dropped away from his face as he schooled his features into a mask of neutrality despite the bruise that was blossoming on one cheek. “After Kodos’s announcement this afternoon confirming the fact that we’re currently without a steady food supply, those who could afford it immediately began buying up all the non-perishable food available. Within three hours, however, there was no more to be purchased. Someone, somewhere, decided that he wasn’t taking a shopkeeper’s word as an answer, and decided to see what he could find on his own. Fighting broke out almost immediately, followed quickly by riots and mobs across all four cities. I’ve been doing what I can to help with the influx of patients, but Doctor Infirti, my partner, sent me to go to the areas that the mobs hadn’t yet reached, to warn them as to what was happening. When I heard that the riots were spreading towards the Governor’s lands, I figured that his servants and guests might want a heads up.” Dr. Jameson smiled a little wanly, and Jimmy suddenly realized that the man was probably exhausted, if the dark circles under his eyes and shaking hands were any indication.  
  
“So now what do we do? We obviously can’t stay here in the open,” Yana said as soon as the doctor had finished speaking. “Besides basic locks and whatnot, there aren’t exactly a ton of security measures here, and if they suspect that we have food here, the paltry security won’t stop them.”  
  
“I contacted Captain Evans, head of Kodos’s guard twenty minutes ago, and he has assured us that we will be able to take refuge in Kodos’s home until this passes. Unfortunately, we‘ll be on our own to get there.” Abby said firmly. “Kodos is currently in the process of authorizing martial law to break up the riots and return everyone to their homes, as well as to take care of the wounded, so there aren‘t any extra people to escort us to the Governor‘s home. So I’d like for you to grab your coats, perhaps a book or something so you can keep yourself occupied while we‘re there, and then you are going to join both myself and Dr. Jameson in making our way across the grounds. Those of you who are wearing light clothing, I’d like you to change it to something darker if you have it. We don’t want to be seen by the rioters. Am I clear?”  
  
Everyone nodded, various degrees of worry and mutiny etched into each person’s face. Jimmy didn’t feel worried or mutinous as he went back upstairs- he felt only a sick pervasive fear that made him wish that his mom was there. He knew it was stupid; his dad was proof enough that just because you loved someone didn’t mean that nothing was going to happen to them, so he stopped wishing that his mom was there and started wishing that the memory of his dad would keep him strong.  
  
He wanted to go home.  
  
Jimmy forced down his pathetic thoughts and told himself sternly to buck up and grow a pair, collecting the holopics he’d taken with him from home, as well as his PADD from his computer so he would have something to listen to or read, whatever he felt like. He also tucked away the one paper book he’d brought with him, a centuries old copy of _Changes_ by Jim Butcher. It had been a favorite book of his dad’s, and he brought it with him everywhere he went.  
  
He was the second to last one down, Big J coming down the stairs right behind him, keeping as quiet as they could. Most people had their jackets thrown over their shoulders or arms instead of on. While the night was cool, it wasn’t that cool. Like the others, Jimmy shouldered his bag, slinging it over one shoulder. Even though Abby has said that they would only be in Kodos’s residence for a short while, Jimmy could tell from the way that some of the packs bulged that everyone had taken everything of sentimental or true value. He could hardly blame them. He hadn’t so much as glanced at his clothes, but his PADD, his pictures- all of that was coming with them. He wasn’t leaving it for some half-witted mobster to go pawing through, not when the pictures and the book were some of the only things he had left of his father. He wasn’t leaving it for someone who would take what little he had of home.  
  
When Abby had counted the heads again, coming up with all twenty, plus herself and the doctor, she led them across Kodos’s grounds to where his house was, a good three miles from the program facility. It was over flat terrain, however, with a walking path and everything, with bushes and trees aplenty to hide their progress in the darkness. Abby had made everyone hold hands, however, something that most of the older kids, like Yana and Gretchen, and even Big J protested. Abby had shut them up with a few hissed comments about them being needed to keep an eye on the younger kids. Jimmy wanted to protest being young- he was thirteen, after all- but silenced his protest under Big J’s warning glance. Abby headed the line, followed by Dr. Jameson, then Yana who gripped Savik’s arm, then Gretchen, O’las, Karrin, Nawat, Donna, Andrelinna, Deshtom, Ianto, Ebenezer, Gim and Gam, collectively known as the twins, Roshaun, Memeki, Rukia, Izoivo, and Daniel, followed by Jimmy and Big J leading up the end of the line. In their hurry to get to safety, they walked at a near jog, and the walk took twenty minutes instead of the usual thirty five. It was done in complete silence, with only the ragged sound of breathing from some of the less in shape members of their party to indicate that there was anyone present in the foliage at all.  
  
Through the foliage, Jimmy could just manage to see peeks of the city, which was set in the valley; distant shouts and screams could be heard, and a small portion of the city appearing to be smoking, if not quite on fire yet. Dr. Jameson made an abortive motion several times towards the destruction. Jimmy could tell that he wanted nothing more than to head down and help those he could, and he exchanged several words with Abby. Abby shook her head steadily, indicating the people behind her. Dr. Jameson’s face was tight for a moment, before he finally picked up Deshtom, the youngest at only eleven years by his species’ count, who was sobbing as quietly as he could manage, clearly not used to keeping up a constant driving pace. Abby and Big J did the same, picking up Ianto and Memeki respectively, the next youngest and obviously on the verge of outright panic. When they were in picked up, each clutched the person that was carrying them, even Memeki’s spidery, long legs wrapping firmly around Big J’s torso. The rest of them closed ranks: Jimmy stuck near Big J, with Savik dropping back to stay near his friends. Karrin and O’las found each other’s hands, staying near the head of the group where Yana and Gretchen were standing. Instead of being strung out in a line, they slowly formed a steadily moving clump, sticking as close together as they could without tripping each other up, putting encouraging hands on the arms of those who were having trouble keeping up.   
  
When then finally got to Kodos’s residence, they all stared for a moment at the door, wondering what to do next. Abby pushed her way forward, constantly adjusting Ianto’s weight so it would be more comfortable for her to carry him. Sweat clung to her brow, and the free locks of her graying hair were stuck to her face.  
  
“Captain Evans programmed in my biometrics,” she gasped. “Ianto, I’ve got to set you down now, honey, alright?”  
  
Though Ianto made a sound of protest, he let himself be sat down easily enough. “There shouldn’t be anyone but the most basic of people; the guards are helping keep martial law, and the servants are busy organizing aid. We’ll just take ourselves to the rooms that Captain Evans arranged for us, and stay there until we know what’s happening, alright? Dr. Jameson, thank you for your help. You’re welcome to stay with us, but if you feel your duties lead you back to the city, I won’t stop you.” Abby, bossy, gossipy Abby, bit her lip, looking too old and frail for the picture she usually presented of herself. Dr. Jameson nodded once, and without a backward glance he disappeared back into the foliage, lost from sight within seconds.  
  
Abby nodded, looking strained, and then turned back to the door, waiting patiently as a retinal scan, DNA confirmation, voice print and heartbeat were taken, proving to at least a reasonable extent that Abby was who she said she was. She indicated that she had the members of Kodos’s Colony Outreach Program with her, and each of them were ordered to step up to the machine so their readings could be recorded for future analysis. Jimmy knew that Abby begrudged the security for every moment they were forced to stand waiting outside, for her shoulders were lined with tension. When that was completed, the door slid open, Abby letting loose a breath in relief as the tension leaked out of her shoulders once more. She herded them all in, leading them to the rooms that Captain Evans had reserved for them with unerring precision.  
  
It wasn’t a very big set of rooms, just three side by side with connecting doors. There were some couches, a sink with some cups nearby if they wanted some water, some pillows and blankets so they could return to sleep if they choose. Abby’s lined face smoothed out a little at that, and she immediately set to making sure that the youngest were returned to their interrupted sleep. When Memeki, Ianto, Deshtom, Savik, Karrin, O’las and Andrelinna had returned to sleep (Jimmy had been securely tucked under some covers despite his protest, but he was unwilling to go to sleep just yet. He wanted to hear what they were going to say, suspecting that they were trying to keep the younger kids from being afraid by talking about the really horrible stuff ), the older kids and Abby sat on the couches, clutching water and began to talk in voices barely above a whisper. Jimmy had learned how to pretend to be asleep from Frank’s frequent attempts to catch him awake after curfew, and he was able to successfully fool Abby when she came over to check them.  
  
“Poor dears,” she clucked, and Jimmy could just imagine her anxious expression as he heard the couch settle under her weight. “I wish we didn’t have to tell them all that.”  
  
“They’re probably some of the smartest people on their respective planets,” Big J rumbled, and Jimmy swore he could practically hear the vibrations through the floor. “Telling them is better than making them wonder. Those genius minds probably would have come up with something far worse…and you know what they say: the fear of the unknown is more paralyzing that anything else. It’s better they know.”  
  
“Yeah,” Gretchen and Yana agreed in unison, and they both let loose nervous chuckles.  
  
“If they’d seen the city without an explanation, I don’t like to think of their reaction,” Daniel muttered. “It was bad enough seeing it _with_ an explanation.” His voice, usually a light tenor, had deepened and become rough from the smoke. As if to confirm Jimmy’s suspicions, Daniel coughed and sniffled a bit, grumbling about his allergies. He was allergic to the usual allergy meds, and thus was stuck mostly with old style antihistamine pills for the most part, which had all but fallen out of use.  
  
There was movement, and Ebenezer handed Daniel a tissue, saying gruffly, “Here,” for which Daniel responded with his thanks.  
  
Despite his best efforts, however, it wasn’t more than two or three minutes, before Jimmy lost track of the conversation as he slowly, but surely, slipped into sleep, realizing that he must have been more tired than he thought.


	5. We Put One Foot In Front of the Other

“Doctor!” Scotty was shouting into his headset even as his fingers flew over the keys, working to beam the rest of the team up. “Doctor, you’ve gotta get down here!” he bellowed as the sparks dissipated, revealing Lieutenant Imari and Spock, the former supporting the latter.  
  
Scotty could see even from here the sheen of sweat on Spock’s face, something Scotty didn’t think was even possible for Vulcans- none of the planets, desert or otherwise had ever brought perspiration to the surface of the half-Vulcan’s skin. He hadn’t thought they even had any sweat glands, though the fact that the First Officer was a half-Vulcan may have made him an exception to the rule. Scotty shook his head, pushing the random thoughts out in order to concentrate on his job, already working on beaming the rest of the party up. He barely acknowledged Doctor McCoy’s hurried response, knowing that the doctor would be coming to the transporter room at a full sprint, ready to do what was necessary to save Spock’s life.  
  
Indeed, Doctor McCoy was racing down to the transporter room at full tilt, Nurse Chapel on his heels, both their faces calm and cool. Almost before Doctor McCoy had left medical bay, Lieutenant Imari was speaking to McCoy, detailing what had happened on the planet, Spock’s collapse and Jim’s subsequent command for them to beam up, reporting that the rest of the team would shortly be on their way.  
  
McCoy rattled off several questions in the minute or so it took him to get down to the transporter room, asking both about Spock’s health and Imari’s, trying to identify if the cause of the collapse might have been something that could spread to the rest of the ship, or something that was affecting only Spock. He burst into the transporter room and dropped to his knees next to Spock, barely responding to the dull thud that indicated that his knees wouldn’t be pleased with him when this was all over. He immediately began scanning Spock from his prone position just off the transporter pad, ignoring as the rest of the landing party was beamed up. Nurse Chapel turned her tricorder to Lieutenant Imari, barking off prompt orders for a decontamination sweep of the entire room as well as requests for Medical to receive the entire landing party for more tests.  
  
McCoy continued his work even as the decontamination beam swept through the room, recognizing the members of the ship by their DNA and destroying all other biological systems that might be present in the room. Spock’s heart was on the verge of straining itself, fluttering so fast under McCoy’s carefully probing fingers that it was simply a constant thrum. McCoy’s tricorder said much of the same; Spock’s heart rate was hovering around 397, the force of which could theoretically rupture something important with the sheer speed of the blood that was being pumped around his system. His blood pressure was through the roof, brain activity off the charts, and he was struggling to breathe, chest heaving as he fought to pull in oxygen.  
  
“90 ccs of imparzapan,” Doctor McCoy barked, holding his hand out expectantly. The Vulcan sedative had worked on Spock before to slow his heart rate and breathing, which was exactly what he needed. With a hiss, the sedative was injected, Doctor McCoy already barking out orders for an inhibitor that would work to protect the half-Vulcan’s sensitive psionic abilities from going haywire and picking up everything in range until Spock could control them himself. Between the two drugs, Spock sagged within seconds, limbs going slack and head tilting back as his entire body slowly stopped fighting. Doctor McCoy took a few more readings on the tricorder, satisfied as Spock’s vitals began to drop back into an acceptable range.  
  
They loaded him up onto the stretcher carefully even as Doctor McCoy continued to scan the half-Vulcan for signs of what might have caused the attack. There was no sign of the body fighting any sort of parasitic or bacteria agent, nor could he detect even the slightest hint of a virus. Doctor McCoy would have to run tests to double check for foreign particles, but the first test indicated that Spock was clean of any outside agent that might have caused the reaction; there wasn’t even so much as an allergy to pin the attack on; everything in his bloodstream showed up on his tricorder as being either Vulcan or human.  
  
When they got to Medical Bay Spock was moved to a biobed, features still smooth under the influence of the sedatives, vitals still falling until they reached his normal statistics, heart rate returning to normal as he began taking in slow, deep breaths. His brain activity was calming too; instead of the wild spikes and drops he’d detects, it was closer to the slow and steady rise and fall that he was accustomed to seeing. Pleased, McCoy took the needed blood samples before giving Spock an IV of fluids to help clean out his system, in addition to another dose of a less intense sedative, amaraphin, which would keep Spock’s heart rate slow, for him, at least, and his psionic ability muted without keeping him unconscious for too much longer.  
  
From there, it was an hour or two of activity, running various blood tests as they scrambled to find the cause of Spock‘s fit and see if it had been passed to someone else on the landing party; everyone came back completely clean, not so much as a changed nucleotide from the trip. There were no foreign agents in the blood, and the ERI and PAA scans were clean, no there were no mind or memory issues present.  
  
There was, in fact, nothing.  
  
With the exception of Spock, none of them had reacted to anything on the planet. As McCoy examined the results of the test, he suspected that Spock hadn’t reacted to the planet either. Actually, if Doctor McCoy was reading the results right, Spock had actually been reacting to himself, in a sort of Lupus-esque sort of way. The only thing that he’d found in Spock’s blood besides the normal compounds was the presence of a protein his Vulcan texts had called izirin, which was the only thing that McCoy could think of that had caused the reaction. However, McCoy had no idea as to how or why the protein had produced such a reaction. He’d asked the local Vulcan expert, but M’Benga hadn’t had much of clue what it did; in his studies on Vulcan, through all his training, he’d never come across the protein in a patient.  
  
McCoy was about to do some more in depths searches in the Vulcan database- he wasn’t quite willing to bring the Ambassador on the case, not quite yet, though he had been alerted as to his son’s condition- when he was commed by Sulu.  
  
“What?” He growled, half an eye still on his PADD where the information lay.  
  
“I need you for a meeting now, Doctor,” the pilot said with only the slightest hint of a waver entering his voice.  
  
“You need me?” Doctor McCoy said, surprise and confusion filling his tone. “But…” the bottom dropped out of his stomach as he realized that he hadn’t seen Jim beam up with the rest of the team; he’d been so focused on helping Spock not die that he hadn’t actually registered much else. In addition, it had been Nurse Chapel and Doctor M’Benga running the tests too, with Doctor McCoy alerting Ambassador Sarek as to his son’s condition and both isolating, sequencing, identifying and doing research on the protein he’d found in Spock’s blood. He hadn’t so much as seen another member of the landing party since he’d started working on the case, simply assuming that Jim was alright despite the fact that he knew that Jim would have normally been peppering McCoy with questions, trying to figure out what was wrong with Spock. McCoy felt awful that he hadn’t so much as spared a thought for his friend, except to bless the fact that Jim had the foresight for once to leave him alone while he was working. He hadn’t even registered that Jim hadn’t been at Spock’s beside either, though heaven knew he often refused to leave his First’s side when the half-Vulcan was ill or injured.  
  
Guilt roiling in his stomach and making him feel nauseous, McCoy swallowed. “Jim didn’t beam up, did he.”  
  
There was a telling silence on the other end.  
  
“As Acting Captain, Kirk’s Second Officer, I am fulfilling the Captain’s duties while First Officer Spock is unable to,” Sulu finally said carefully.   
  
“Dammit,” McCoy groaned. He set aside his guilt so he could focus- if he needed to, he could flay himself later for his insensitivity. “Alright, just tell me when and where, so we can straighten this whole mess out.”  
  
McCoy could practically hear Sulu’s nod. “We’re meeting in twenty minutes in the conference room on deck 3.” Though Sulu was Acting Captain, he didn’t seem interested in holding the meeting in the Captain’s ready room, as was his right. McCoy supposed that doing so would make Jim’s absence all the more noticeable.  
  
McCoy just sighed, shaking his head sadly. “Sure, I’ll be there.”  
  
Promptly twenty minutes later, McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, Scott, the entire landing party and Lieutenant Commander Jefferson, Head of Security gathered in the conference room.  
  
The picture that had been painted by the landing party and Scotty of the events on the planet was quite grim: Spock had had trouble breathing almost as soon as they’d gotten down to the planet, but had claimed it was simply because the oxygen levels were much greater than he was used to. Everyone had spread out, exploring, and Jim had presumably tracked Spock and Lieutenant Imari down after speaking with Uhura about their basic observation and about beaming down a larger party to take samples and more fully explore the area. About the same time the tree had begun shaking, Spock had collapsed, vitals going out of control, before trying to warn the Captain about some danger just before being beamed up. No one knew what the danger was, however, since besides some small insects and the trees, no life had been detected by the scientists, and no one at the meeting except for Imari had been there when the larger tree had moved, and she hadn‘t seen anything that would constitute as dangerous. The Captain had then given orders to beam everyone else back too, but had begun running before he could be properly beamed up. By the time the landing party had returned to the Enterprise and Scotty had turned his hand to beaming up the Captain, he had disappeared, signal lost.  
  
After a moment of tense silence, McCoy reported what he knew: the entire landing party was clear of any diseases that might have been picked up on the planet, and the only thing foreign in Spock’s blood was the protein izirin. While the sequence was on record, and though it was a recognized protein on the Vulcan database, it had no purpose that McCoy could discern from his research, which in and of itself made McCoy suspicious. The Vulcans were known for investigating everything and anything. They wouldn’t have left a protein’s purpose unexplored.  
  
Sulu made his next commands in the same smooth way that he did everything else, standing in a motion so seamless that McCoy almost didn’t realize he was moving until he’d already stood. “Doctor McCoy, I’d like you to continue your research, but if you don’t find anything within the next two hours, you will ask Ambassador Sarek if he recognizes the protein and can tell you its purpose. Mr. Scott, you will continue doing your best to scan for the Captain’s signal. If you find it, beam him up immediately. I realize that our scans aren’t working at optimum level at this time due to the star‘s radiation levels, so feel free to make any adjustments necessary to compensate, so long as you record the changes. Uhura, look for radio messages being passed within the planet’s atmosphere. Chekov, head down to the science labs and get everyone who has even an ounce of knowledge of the scanning technology to look for a civilization that’s been hidden, for example, beneath the planet’s crust, or shielded from view. I’d like the members of the landing party to take the samples they collected to the planet to the labs for testing, and Lieutenant Commander Jefferson will begin collecting members for a security team, which will be beamed to the planet’s surface in six hours if we are unable to get clear reading from the scans by that point, in order to search on foot.”  
  
Sulu took a deep breath, looking each of them in the face and letting them see that the inner will he possessed was as strong as any one of his swords. Immediately, everyone’s backs straightened. “We will not be leaving the Captain there. Alright? Let’s go.”  
  
Everyone in the room smiled at that, taking heart in Sulu’s conviction and letting it strengthen their own will. With just the briefest of goodbyes, they all stood and left, Sulu, Chekov and Uhura returning to the bridge, the lieutenant commander for the Security office, the landing party for the labs and McCoy back to medical bay.  
  
Two hours later, however, any hope that Sulu had inspired in McCoy had long since drained away, leaving him cold, tired, and worried for his friend. Jim, who always had a glass of something strong on the anniversaries of all his failures, Jim, who always had a kind word and a joke (usually both inappropriate in nature and inappropriate in timing), Jim who would die for those on his ship…  
  
“Doctor McCoy?”  
  
McCoy jumped, whirling around with a curse on his lips until he caught sight of Ambassador Sarek’s face.   
  
McCoy just barely managed to restrain himself from asking the Vulcan what the hell he thought he was doing. Instead, he seated himself, making an effort to at least appear calm, even if he didn’t sound like it. Just because Jim often accused him of being unable to deal with Vulcans didn‘t mean it was true. “Ambassador,” he said, “What can I do for you?”  
  
“I was visiting my son,” Ambassador Sarek said, perfectly calm. “I wished to ascertain for myself his status, especially given that you reported that his psionic brain activity was unusually, and possibly dangerously high, before you were able to bring it back to acceptable levels.”  
  
McCoy relaxed a little. A worried a parent he could deal with, even if the Ambassador wouldn’t call it quite that; everyone on the ship had noticed how much time Spock was making to spend time with his father, trying to bridge the gap that McCoy suspected had existed since Spock had joined Starfleet, if not earlier. In the wake of his mother’s death, however, McCoy couldn’t fault either of them for trying to find a way to coexist in her absence. His face softening, McCoy nodded and said, “Yes. We had to give him sedative to keep the brain activity down, as we didn’t think that the influx of information from his psionic abilities would help with his control. We also gave him a second set of sedatives to help regulate his heart rate and breathing, which were also outside the norm for him.”  
  
Ambassador Sarek inclined his head, acknowledging McCoy’s words. “When do you think he will awaken?”  
  
McCoy pursed his lips, thinking it over. “Probably within another hour or two. I gave him a fairly high dosage of a stronger set of sedative initially because we needed immediate effects, or he was going to injure himself; in all likelihood, he will be sore when he wakes up. However, I’ve still got him on a milder set of sedatives at the moment that will keep his heart rate and respiration low even when he wakes up, to give him some time to recover. It’s what’s making him wake up so slowly.”  
  
“Thank you, Doctor McCoy. I can see that you are taking sufficient care of my son.”  
  
Doctor McCoy started to get a little hot at that, but forced it down. If nothing else, being friends with Spock- however grudging it may have been, some days- had shown him that Vulcans as a whole had a thing for understatement. If Ambassador Sarek had truly found Doctor McCoy’s work only mediocre, he would not have made the effort to compliment him in the slightest. Letting out a little sigh, and readjusting his inner translator for   
‘Vulcan’ McCoy said, “It’s no problem, really. Spock’s…” he hesitated slightly, then went in for broke, wanting Spock‘s father to understand that he was highly valued on the Enterprise. “He’s a good First Officer for this ship. The Captain trusts him, and I do too. He…” McCoy smiled a little. “He uses logic quite effectively.” It was even true- though McCoy often disagreed with the man in both his personal and professional capacity, he couldn’t fault Spock’s ability to use logic to his advantage.  
  
There was, perhaps, the slightest hint of warmth on Ambassador Sarek’s face in response, and McCoy was caught up in wondering what sort of Vulcan the ambassador was behind the mask. Sarek had gone out into the universe, working as an ambassador to Earth, a place as chaotic as Vulcan was calm, and had done so willingly. He was even doing so again now, striding back out into the world so unlike his own, taking back up his ambassadorial duties and continuing to work for the good of the greatest number of people he could, organizing aid and relief for Vulcans from his position as ambassador despite the loss of his wife, still so recent a wound. He had married a human, and if his muted and agonized expression in med bay when the Narada had attacked Vulcan had been any indication, he’d loved her. Despite his Vulcan heritage, despite his logic, he’d loved her. McCoy didn’t know all the details of Sarek’s, of Spock‘s lives- hell, he didn’t want to- but love was something that McCoy could respect.  
  
Love was something he’d always respected.  
  
Something that he always would respect.  
  
And here that same fierce, deep love was again, glowing slightly in Sarek’s eyes as they spoke about his son. McCoy knew that the Vulcan was allowing him to see it, for the briefest instance, and nodded, acknowledging it. Then he took a breath, swallowed his pride, reminded himself firmly of what he’d just seen in the older Vulcan and asked, “What do you know about the Vulcan protein by the name of izirin?”  
  
If Sarek wasn’t Vulcan, McCoy would have guessed that he’d just given him an enormous surprise. As it was, Sarek stood stock still, eerily still, as though he was a statue more than a creature made of flesh and blood. It made McCoy shudder, just a little. Sarek closed his eyes then, looking for all the world as though he was simply combing through his memory, looking to find the correct answer. If McCoy had to guess, however, he would have said that not only was Sarek considering the answer to his question, but he was considering the implications of the answer to his question, considering how much information to give, considering why McCoy might need the information.  
  
McCoy sighed, and this time it was in frustration, wishing that the bloody Vulcans would trust any doctor but their own at least once. Even M’Benga was just barely considered to be trustworthy. “Your son has about two hundred parts of izirin in his system for every half liter of his blood. I am his doctor. This is critical medical information that I need as soon as possible. I give you my word as a doctor that unless it is a matter of life and death, I will respect both your and Spock’s privacy in this matter. However, I need to know what I’m dealing with if I‘m going to be able to help Spock.”  
  
Sarek stared at him, eyes both dark and intense, and McCoy spent half a minute wondering if Vulcans could read intentions without touching. Feeling supremely ridiculous, he tried to project all the trustworthiness he could towards the elder man, trying to convince him without words as to the depth of his conviction; McCoy would rather die than allow the confidentiality of his patients to be broken, and he genuinely wanted to help Spock through this and take away the pain the izirin had caused.  
  
Sarek looked at him sharply, and McCoy was reminded of the stares that his own father had once aimed in his direction, the one that said, I know what you’re up to, boy, and if you get away with it, it’s because I let you, not because of your own cleverness.  
  
Aloud, however, Sarek only said in a mild tone, “There is no need to shout.”  
  
McCoy stared at him, shocked for a second that it had worked at all, and then very, very slowly smiled. “Well?” he asked. “Are you going to tell me what I need to know?” He waved a hand at the seat opposite his desk, indicating that if he wanted too, Sarek could sit down.  
  
McCoy waited with baited breath for a moment, wondering what Sarek would do.  
  
With his customary grace, Sarek took the seat opposite him, showing absolutely nothing on his face.   
  
Grinning in victory, and completely unabashed about that fact, McCoy demanded, “So? What is izirin?”  
  
“It is, Doctor McCoy, a protein that has not been seen on Vulcan for the better part of nearly a thousand years.”  
  
“Gee, that’s helpful.”  
  
Sarek sent McCoy a reproachful look that had the doctor flushing. “Sorry.”  
  
“As I was saying, izirin hasn’t been seen in Vulcan blood for nearly a thousand years, because its use was not needed after the time of Surak, with the exception of very few cases. During the times when Vulcan was still a warrior’s land, one of the things that was used to attack opposing clans was not only physical prowess, but mental as well. Stronger minds would brutalize weaker ones, forcing their control on others. As a defense from the outside pressure, izirin was produced to protect the mind, working to help shield the psionic effects of the attack by partially blocking the receptors. Much like a fever, though it can be useful, izirin can result in dangerous physiological responses in Vulcans, initially indicated by shortness of breath or trouble controlling their emotions. Usually izirin production has to consistent for an hour before it produces the increased heart rate and brain activity, but it seems that Spock is more susceptible to izirin’s negative effects than a full Vulcan would be. An izirin response only occurs when the mind touch is forced, however. A proper meld results in no protein production, because it is accepted by both parties, and thus not considered to be an invasion. The last time it was seen in Vulcan blood was when we encountered the Betazoids; we were unused to the manner in which they connected to one another telepathically, and our bodies reacted as though were under attack, despite their peaceable intentions. Since that matter has been resolved, izirin has not been produced in such large quantities in any individual.”  
  
McCoy felt his eyes grow bigger with each word that came out of Sarek’s mouth. “Wow,” he finally said, when the Vulcan had finished speaking. “I…thank you.” He met Sarek’s eyes evenly, and then said for a second time, “Thank you. Not only will that help me work to limit the production of izirin, hopefully resulting in waking Spock sooner and helping him regain control, but you may have just given us critical information, if we work under the assumption that sentient life kidnapped Jim. If they have the same abilities, or even similar abilities that elicited such a response, we won’t be sending people down to that planet to get their heads rearranged without their knowledge.”  
  
Sarek inclined his head. “Again, I would ask that you be selective as to how you share this information.”  
  
McCoy nodded his understanding. He could think of a dozen ways off the top of his head that izirin could be used to the disadvantage of the Vulcan species, especially since the production of the drug induced the same physiological symptoms in other Vulcans that it had in Spock, even if at a slower pace. “I’ll only tell Acting Captain Sulu; he can determine how the information should be passed to the members of Security that will be headed down to the planet. Firstly, I do warn you though, that by the end of this trip, it’s likely that a good portion of the Enterprise will know roughly what the protein does, if not exactly how it works. Secondly, if you go over the pathway with me, I can work on developing something that might help Spock in the future, create a protein that mimics izirin without his heart and brain activity going into overdrive under the onslaught, or something preventative even, that he can take as a precaution before going down to planets to make first contact or when interacting with telepathic species. I give you my word that any information on the pathway and the exact development of the drug will not be shared with anyone but those that you authorize; for example, Doctor M‘Benga studied medicine on Vulcan and is more familiar with Vulcan physiology, and thus would be able a great help in figuring out a solution. Besides Spock, I doubt I’ve seen more than six or seven patients who were Vulcan, and thus don‘t feel comfortable doing all the research on my own.” He waited for Sarek to incline his head at McCoy’s words before he continued, “I do have one thing I’d like to know, if you have the answer- does izirin production interfere with his own ability to use touch telepathy or mind melds?”  
  
Sarek hesitated for the barest instant. “I am unsure. There has never been an effort to find out what the effect would be, as Spock is the only half-Human, half-Vulcan hybrid currently in existence. If a Vulcan is experiencing the effects of izirin, it has been observed that their mental abilities, while slowed, are not stopped. For example, under the effect of izirin, I would be able to meld with you, doctor, and while it would take me longer than normal to achieve a full meld, once the meld itself was in place, things would operate normally. Our touch telepathy, however, is considerably more muted under the effect of izirin. While normally when touching we can catch ideas, partial thoughts, intentions and the like, when under the influence of izirin, we can sense emotions only, and even they are weaker than normal.”  
  
McCoy nodded, absently tapping on his PADD with his stylus even as he filed the information away in his mind. He mused over it for a long moment. “Alright. Once Spock wakes up, we’ll talk to him about this, try and see what he sensed when he was under attack. That will give us a better idea of the relative strength of our enemies.” McCoy stopped tapping his PADD with the stylus and began spinning it absently between his fingers in a show of dexterity.  
  
Sarek inclined his head for a moment. “If you are willing to bring up the relevant data, I would be willing to show you the exact signaling pathway and secretory pathway of izirin, as well as how izirin functions once it had bonded to the psionic receptors.”  
  
McCoy smiled a little. “Do you mind going with me to the lab? I’ll be able to project the appropriate vids better from there. Are you going to need access to any texts?”  
  
The Ambassador nodded. “I can gain access to the appropriate Vulcan files from my PADD and send them to yours, as it had been many years since I studied biochemistry and I am unwilling to accidentally impart untrue information, and giving you access to the texts will allow you to do research in the future. I will retrieve my PADD and join you in your labs.”  
  
“Sure. I’ll let my nurse, Christine Chapel know what we’re doing, and bring M’Benga to the lab so he can help us out.” McCoy hesitated for a moment, waiting for the ambassador’s permission to bring in the two people he trusted most in medical. When Sarek once more inclined his head in agreement, McCoy continued, “I’ll also let Sulu know what we’re up to, and tell my doctors and nurses to keep an eye out on Spock, since I’ll want to be there as soon as he wakes up, to make sure that there are no lingering effects from the izirin. We can use my personal lab for our work- normally I just use it when we‘ve got an influx of people running in and out of the labs, but there should be enough room for us to all fit in there and work.”  
  
They parted ways for perhaps half an hour before Nurse Chapel, Doctor M’Benga, McCoy and Sarek met in McCoy’s personal lab. The small room connected to his office that wasn’t used for much more than McCoy’s private projects, the things that didn‘t need true lab space, but were mostly projects of different phenomenon that McCoy found interesting and potentially useful but weren‘t important in an immediate sense. It was as crowded as McCoy had suspected it would be when they had all gathered, but it wasn‘t too tight a fit. Using the private lab would prevent anyone else from investigating, however. People entered McCoy’s office at their own risk, and they entered McCoy’s personal lab on pain of death.  
  
Once they were all gathered, Sarek immediately brought up the files he needed, projecting the relevant vid from his PADD, blowing up different parts of the three dimensional image to examine it in more detail as needed. They gathered around, listening as Sarek took on the tone of a lecturer, explaining about izirin production, as well as pathway and secretion, listening to their questions and referencing them to some papers that had been written when he didn’t know the answer himself. McCoy had to admit that though Sarek hadn’t been fully trained in biochemistry and molecular biology, the Ambassador had been through basic training and studies in both topics as part of his time spent in the Vulcan Science Academy and it showed. He spoke clearly and concisely, explaining every aspect with the perfect amount of detail before moving onto the next subject, making sure they understood everything adequately before proceeding to the next part.  
  
Two hours passed that way easily, McCoy, M’Benga, and Chapel absorbing the information that Sarek imparted with the ease of long practice, asking as many questions as they could to get a feel for what was happening. They weren’t more than halfway through how the izirin impaired the psionic receptors however, when a cautious hand knocked on the door of McCoy’s office. He frowned a little, holding up a hand to stop Sarek’s lecture. Everyone paused.  
  
“What?” He called out, stepping past the other people in his lab in order to peek out the lab door at whoever was knocking on his office door. He knew there was a scowl growing on his face at the interrupted mock lecture, but he couldn’t quite stop it.  
  
It was Doctor Invidia, her head stuck around the door of the office. She had her hand raised and looked about to knock on the door again. “Doctor McCoy!” she exclaimed, ignoring the frown on the CMO‘s face. “First Officer Spock is awake!”  
  
Immediately McCoy darted out of the office, snatching a tricorder from off his desk even as he called the news over his shoulder. Sarek was on his heels as he walked to the biobed that Spock lay on, managing to keep past with the doctor’s near run without seeming hurried.  
  
Spock was blinking blearily on the biobed, expression unfocused. There was a flurry of activity around his biobed for a few moments as they removed his IV bag, running the tricorder over his body to make sure that his vitals were staying low. McCoy waved all the various medical personnel away and they scattered on his command, heading back to their regular duties.  
  
Spock was just sitting up, hand rising almost immediately to his head. Just the very fact that the motion was involuntary told Doctor McCoy how bad his head must be aching. “Head?” McCoy said sympathetically.  
  
Spock made a small noise, not quite an agreement but not a refusal either. McCoy took a hypo out of the cabinet, loading it with a pain reliever, and injected Spock without ceremony. Fifteen seconds passed before the tightness in Spock’s face eased. McCoy ran the tricorder over Spock’s body again relieved when his heart rate and breathing stayed calm. Spock sat up fully in on the bed, hand dropping away from his forehead as he focused his attention on McCoy.  
  
“If you feel any pain despite the pain reliever, tell me, because that could be a signal of muscle bruising that goes down to the bone. You’re going to feel somewhat achy for a while, because your heart was going close to four hundred beats per minute when I got to you, and any liquid being pumped that fast is going to do some damage. What’s the last thing you remember?”  
  
Spock thought for a moment and then said slowly, “The last thing I recall was attempting to warn the Captain about what I’d been sensing.”  
  
McCoy waited for him to continue, then realized he had only asked for the last thing Spock had remembered. He rolled his eyes. “Warn him about what?”  
  
Spock’s expression went perfectly neutral, which McCoy knew well enough to recognize that he was trying to hide his worry and fear. “I am not entirely sure. When I first beamed down to the planet, I had assumed the cause for my shortness of breath was the increase in oxygen, but quickly became aware of feelings.”  
  
“Feelings?” McCoy prompted.  
  
Spock nodded once. “I could sense feelings being projected, and followed them to the tree, the one that was colored differently from the surrounding trees. As I did so, the emotions increased in both strength and pressure. I sensed fear, anxiety and confusion, as well as burgeoning panic. I thought at first that it might have been the trees themselves that were sentient, but the feelings weren’t emanating from the plant life, but instead from…under it, to a certain extent. However, I found myself reacting to the increase in the strength of the emotions, my pulse and breathing rate increasing.”  
  
McCoy turned Spock’s words over, before saying, “That pretty much confirms that we’ve got some sort of telepathic life existing on this planet.” At Spock’s glance in his direction, the doctor explained in detail the events of the last few hours, including the Captain’s disappearance. Sulu came in during the middle of the explanation, Nurse Chapel having alerted him as to the change in Spock’s condition, and he added in the information that McCoy had missed.  
  
It took the pair of them the better part of an hour to explain to the rapt audience of Spock and Sarek what had been going on since they beamed up from the planet, discussing their assumptions and conclusions based on the events.  
  
“I agree,” Spock finally said when they’d finished speaking. “It seems a reasonable conclusion that based on my own experiences and the production of izirin that there is some sort of sentient, telepathic race on the planet that has presumably taken our Captain for unknown reasons. Mr. Sulu, if I may once more take command?”  
  
“Woah, excuse me!” Doctor McCoy interrupted, crossing his arms across his chest. “I have to clear you for duty before you can step in as Acting Captain! And until I’m sure that the izirin and the sedatives that I gave you are cleared from your system, your ass isn’t going anywhere! Now sit down and let me run the rest of my tests!”   
  
Spock looked about to protest, but caught sight of his father. His mouth thinned ever so slightly, imperceptible on anyone else but as good as a pout for the half-Vulcan. McCoy snorted, unmoved by the display. Spock sat waiting with no small amount of patience while McCoy ran every conceivable test he could think of on the half-Vulcan, before grudgingly releasing him from medical care to take over the Enterprise.  
  
Spock stood upon the completion of the last test, calling Sulu over to take formal command of the Enterprise as its Acting Captain. He then made brief farewells to both McCoy and Sarek, instructing the former to continue his research on izirin- McCoy suspected because he wanted to use any developments that were made to protect himself when he beamed back down to the planet- and requesting that Sarek continue to help the team.  
  
With his customary Vulcan poise, Sarek agreed, saying in a tone that was perhaps the slightest bit dry, “I have no other pressing plans for the afternoon, and the recovery of your Captain is certainly a worthy cause.”  
  
McCoy almost barked out a laugh at that, though Spock didn’t react. Instead, he thanked his father for his help, ordered McCoy to keep him updated and informed him that Spock planned to have a search party sent down to retrieve the Captain within the next twenty four hours, depending on what information had been gleaned from the scans. Then Spock and Sulu were off, already discussing their plans to retrieve the Captain.  
  
“Doctor,” Sarek intoned. “Shall we return to our work?”  
  
McCoy blinked once, realizing that he’d been staring after Spock. He’d notice a hint of emotion in Spock’s voice as he’d spoken about Captain Kirk’s recovery, something that McCoy didn’t think would ever happen at all, let alone in front of his father. Sarek, too, glanced in the direction his son had gone with an inscrutable look on his face. McCoy tried to recall the exact timber of Spock’s voice, trying to discern the emotion in it, but stopped himself. Worrying about Spock’s emotions wouldn’t get Jim off that god-forsaken planet, where the aliens were doing who knew what to his brain. Knowing his luck, they were probably re-arranging it to suit their tastes.  
  
“Doctor,” Sarek said a second time, sounding just a touch sharper.  
  
McCoy glanced at him, flapping a hand. “Yeah, yeah, just gimme a minute and I’ll head back in there.”  
  
Sarek studied the doctor and made a polite sound of agreement, disappearing into his office.  
  
McCoy spent another long moment staring after Spock, wondering what the hell was going on.  
  
Then he went back to work.


	6. For Those Lives That Tear at the Scenes

Martial law was not easy to live under, Jimmy found.  
  
No groups of more than five people were allowed to assemble. Guards wandered all the cities to enforce the law. Food was being strictly rationed; food stamps were sent out to the colonists weekly, and depending on their familial status- single, married, family with children- they were given careful portions of various foods to last them the week. Those who stole or attempted to steal food were shot on sight. Those who were caught creating food stamps were beaten. Any protests about the soldiers’ behavior was ignored, and usually the men and women were vindictive enough to find some imagined offense to punish the offender with. The entire planet was on the cusp of being uncivilized, and no one seemed to be able to control it.  
  
Not that anyone dared to, of course. Even Jimmy didn’t dare say what he was thinking aloud- that Kodos had finally shown his true colors. Though he seemed to be a kindly and well-meaning gentleman, he made no efforts to stop the men and women under his command from doing as they pleased. There was a wildness to people’s eyes now, a sort of animalistic quality that had Jimmy avoiding everyone’s gaze, half wondering if he looked as wild to them as they did to him. Even in the face of all that however, Jimmy didn’t dare speak his thoughts aloud.   
  
Because if he did, he would likely disappear too.   
  
Not that anything could be proven, of course- especially during the time that everyone was rioting. Two hundred people were confirmed dead, that was true, from the thieves and guards and mobs, but another three hundred people were missing.  
  
Just…missing.  
  
Gone.  
  
And it wasn’t like there was anywhere for them to go. Tarsus IV didn’t have warp capable ships, so it wasn’t like even if they stole the ships they would be able to go anywhere in a reasonable amount of time; they would get faster relief if they just waited for Starfleet to respond. Besides, even if they _had_ stolen the ships someone would have noticed; the ships were heavily guarded both with man power and with technological security, and had been even before the famine. Any theft would have been plastered all over the newsfeeds. It was unlikely that the missing people gone to another city, either, since the situation wasn’t any better there. It was equally unlikely that they were simply out in the wilderness, surviving on their own. Not that the terrain was particularly hostile, but it simply wouldn’t make sense- why give up the chance that the scientists would be able to resolve the issue or that Starfleet would respond earlier than expected?  
  
Even more than the fact that it didn’t make sense to disappear, Jimmy couldn’t help but shudder because of _who_ had been reported missing.  
  
The elderly.  
  
The lame.  
  
The two people that Jimmy knew- that everyone knew- would be the least likely to survive the famine. Literally anyone over the age of sixty or so- or whatever the species’ equivalent was- and anyone who was in some way unable to physically bring aid or help the others in the community had disappeared either during or within two days of the rioting.  
  
There was no way to confirm, no way to tell for sure, but everyone had their suspicions about what had happened. It was hard to be sure, however; the elderly and the lame were also the least able to get away from the mobs, from the rioting. In fact, nearly ninety percent of the victims that had been found had been either elderly or lame as well. Even so, simply the fact that no one had been able to find the bodies, or had been able to identify the bodies was enough to make most people uncomfortable. Though the theories differed, the one thing that everyone agreed on was that it couldn’t be good.  
  
Yet so far no one had raised a voice in protest. They didn’t quite dare- it was one thing to have suspicions, and quite another to accuse a man of essentially murdering his colonists. And if he had done it, how could he have possibly gotten rid of all the bodies? There were simply too many unanswered questions for anyone to be able to say anything.  
  
Even so, Jimmy made the journey to the labs each day with trepidation. They were located near the edge of Kodos’s grounds, an enormous and well stocked complex. Kodos had asked the geniuses in his Colony Outreach Program to help work on solving the problems the colony faced. About half the members of this year’s program had some sort of background in biochemistry, organic chemistry, math, cellular physiology, engineering and the like. Jimmy had been assigned to a group working on re-creating replicator technology based some of the partial designs that were in the databank. Big J, Karrin, O’las, Savik, Memeki, Gretchen, Yana, Roshaun and Ebenezer were all working to ease the effects of the famine in some shape, way, or form.  
  
It seemed as if the colonists were heedless of that fact, however. In the last two days, six of the scientists and their families had been killed in their homes. They had been brutal, bloody affairs, without cause or reason. Since the murderers were still at large, Kodos had insisted that his guards escort all the scientists to the facility with their personal belongings; they were to remain either in the facility or the rooms that Kodos was giving them for the duration, so as to prevent the scientists from being killed and ending their ability to do the critical work.  
  
Jimmy swallowed, eyeing the guards around him with a certain anxiety. He knew they were there for his own protection, but they were huge, hulking men that could probably flatten Big J with a couple of blows, let alone Jimmy’s own increasingly skinny frame, or that of the others that were being herded along. He watched them warily the entire trip, making sure they didn’t come too close. He knew that he was acting ridiculously skittish, but couldn’t help his response to the sheer strength present in the frames of the men and women around him, a strength that far exceeded his own. Though they hadn’t behaved in the least threateningly- the one guard had even told Memeki and Karrin that he would hold their things, if they desired- Jimmy couldn’t help but recall the brutalities that had been committed in the various settlements, the rumors that were still flying around.  
  
But Jimmy never gave up, never surrendered- not to Frank, not to his mother, not to the aching hole his father left and sure as hell not to these goons that didn’t have so much as two brain cells to rub together. So Jimmy scowled the entire trip to Kodos’s residence, scowled as the guards directed both the other scientists and the kid geniuses to their rooms in a sort of elegant organized chaos. He even managed to scowl through the better part of the meager meal that they were all served and the idle chatter that came with it- some sort of bluish corn, chicken, and sheesh, a sort of starch product from Andoria. Simple, plain fare.  
  
The next two days didn’t do much to improve Jimmy’s mood. Not only had he hit a roadblock in the replicator equations that neither he nor the other scientists on the project had been able to resolve, but Kodos had been by to visit every day. He’d lurked in the corner, claiming that he simply wanted to observe genius at work. Jimmy could feel his eyes on him, and just barely resisted the urge to either say something about it or attempt to escape to his room. There was a weight and sense of ownership to Kodos’s gaze that made Jimmy sick to his stomach.  
  
Jimmy breathed out a long sigh of relief after Kodos was gone both days. The second time, a young, pretty scientist by the name of Dr. Ingrid Smith laughed lightly at his response. Jimmy gazed at her in appreciation; she had dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes and a brilliant white smile. Like with Dr. Jameson, he had the strangest feeling that he knew her from somewhere, felt like he shouldn‘t be calling her by her first name as she had instructed him when they‘d first met.  
  
“If you want to get into the scientific field, you better get used to having your boss looking over your shoulder,” she teased with a smile. “Everything is about results.”  
  
Jimmy returned her smile half-heartedly. How had Ingrid not seen the darkness in Kodos’s gaze, the presence of a man who had been pushed to the edge- and possibly over it, if the rumors that were growing every day were any indication? Kodos’s smile had been predatory, cool. It hadn’t been quite lustful as he’d gazed as Jimmy, at least, he didn’t think so, but there was something _wrong_ , completely and utterly _wrong_ about him. It was clear that Ingrid hadn’t seen it at all, didn’t even have an inkling of what Jimmy had seen. It made Jimmy doubt himself, wonder if he was just projecting his emotions onto the governor, seeing his own inner torment about the situation playing out across Kodos’s face.   
  
So Jimmy kept his mouth shut, and continued to work, hoping it would keep his mind off of Kodos‘s dark eyes.  
  
He was done for the day, feeling a sort of creeping exhaustion flowing through his body when he heard a knock at the door. He frowned for a moment, wondering who would be knocking at his door this late. As he was walking over, he heard the rhythmic _thunk thunk thunk_ that he’d heard a thousand times. It was Memeki, shifting her weight from one set of legs to the other, something she always did when she was nervous.  
  
“Yeah?” Jimmy asked as he pulled the door open. “What’s up, Memeki?”  
  
Her dark eyes gazed at him in supplication. “I forgot!” she moaned, shifting her weight even faster now. “I forgot my scroll!”  
  
Jimmy immediately sighed, exhaustion making his limbs feel even heavier. “Memeki, how could you have forgotten your book? Didn’t Abby say like, four times to check that you had everything with you before we left?”  
  
It was the wrong thing to say. Memeki’s species wasn’t able to produce tears, Jimmy knew that, but somehow she managed to make her large, dark eyes go glassy, her mandibles tightening. “I know!” she replied in a quavering tone, voice thick with embarrassment and worry. “But my dapi gave it to me! I hid it under my bed for safekeeping, and I left it there!”  
  
Jimmy couldn’t help the slightly petulant tone to his voice. “So why don’t you tell Big J, or one of the guards or something?”  
  
Memeki’s quavering tone got worse, and Jimmy felt like a complete jerk. “Big J is still working, so are Yana and Gretchen and the others! I can’t go to them. And I don’t wanna go to the guards! I’m scared! I just want my scroll. Please, Jimmy, can you go get it? _Please_?” Memeki stared up at him, dark gaze sorrowful and anxious. “Please, I don’t trust the guards. They’ll do something to it, or steal it, and my dapi gave it to me. Please, Jimmy, _please_!”  
  
“You can’t just wait until tomorrow? Maybe Abby can bring it over.”  
  
Jimmy’s words didn’t move Memeki at all. “I already tried calling her.” Now slow, shuddering heaves were wracking her body, and Jimmy knew they had to be the equivalent of tears, and felt himself caving. “Please, Jimmy, something could happen to it if I wait until tomorrow. Please, please, please.”  
  
Jimmy let out a long breath, a headache beginning to pound behind his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and listen to some music for a while, to do anything but move. Somehow staring at numbers all day, revising set after set of equations was more taxing than being out in the sun, hanging out with friends and running around. A small part of him was pleased, glad that Memeki trusted him enough to ask such a favor of him. Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, tousling the gold locks, tapping his foot absently while Memeki gazed up at him, hope in her eyes.  
  
“Dammit,” Jimmy finally growled. “Memeki, you owe me one. I’ll run down to the program’s building and see if I can snag the scroll from your room. Hopefully Abby’s still awake to let me in. I’m not making any promises though, alright?”  
  
“That’s fine!” Memeki said fervently. “Thank you, Jimmy, thank you!”  
  
Her arms wrapped around him tightly for a long minute, nearly squeezing the breath out of him before she let go of him and headed back down the hallway to her room. Jimmy rubbed at his face, eyes burning. “How do I get myself into these things,” he grumbled as he closed the door to put his jeans and his jacket back on. Actually, he did know how. He was always a pushover when people genuinely asked for his help, wanting to give others the support he’d sorely missed during his childhood. He cursed under his breath, feeling like a ridiculous sap.  
  
He made his way out silently, slipping past the occasional guard. The scientists were still in the labs or asleep, worn out from the day’s work, and the guards were too busy making sure the settlements didn’t begin rioting again to pay attention to Jimmy‘s slim figure; the governor’s house was nearly empty. Even so, Jimmy didn’t get the feeling his return to the program house would be easily accepted, but he’d told Memeki he’d go and wasn’t interested in being forced to break the promise. Therefore, he was exceptionally careful to avoid being caught, taking the winding path to the edges of Kodos’s property that was almost never used and then cutting down towards the house. It only added an extra fifteen or so minutes to the journey, but kept him out of sight of the governor’s house, mostly behinds the large bushes and trees that lined so many of the paths. Twilight had completely spread against the sky, and by the time Jimmy actually reached the program house, it was pitch black.   
  
He shivered, his coat not quite warm enough in the fall chill that had been taking over the planet for the last few weeks. Maybe Abby would have something he could borrow; he could always return it to her later when he had the chance. As he came around the ridge, however, phaser fire rang from the program house.  
  
Jimmy froze for a pair of heartbeats that seemed to stretch on forever.  
  
Then he was off, darting forward through the underbrush heedless of the scratches he was getting as the branches smacked his arms, his face. He nearly stumbled several times over rocks and old tree stumps that he couldn’t see, but his entire focus was on what he was hearing. His own breath, harsh and ragged already with fear and exertion, and constant whine of phasers. There were shouts too, which sounded almost flat in the dark, omni-directional and full of pain and worry. Jimmy ran a little faster at that, breath wheezing in and out of him.  
  
He barreled down the hill, towards where he could hear at least three phasers shooting blast after blast, each impact throwing up a shower of sparks. When each blast hit, whether it was the wall of the house or something else, the cries rose again briefly, gaining a level of fear that had Jimmy running a little bit swifter. He came careening down the hill, knocking aside the branches that got in his way. He saw a figure racing towards him.   
  
It was Abby, holding Ianto in her arms.  
  
One of the guards stopped, at the base of the hill, and Jimmy froze in the bushes, heart fluttering, going absolutely still as he wondered for a breathless moment if this was it, if he was about to be captured and killed. Horror welled up in him, making him breathless, and it wasn’t until he saw the spray of blood, black in the night, that he realized that the guard hadn’t seen him yet, that he hadn’t be aiming for Jimmy.  
  
He’d been aiming for Abby.  
  
The spray of blood also told him that the guard wasn’t using the normal phaser, but something else, something that did massive damage- enough damage that when hit, Abby’s arm looked like it had been mostly torn off, a big, gaping wound that turned the left half of her body scarlet. Ianto let out a shriek, a wild, terrible thing, but from Jimmy’s vantage point, he couldn’t tell if the younger boy had been hit.  
  
Despite her wound, Abby kept moving forward with almost shocking speed. Somehow, her clever eyes located Jimmy, hidden in the shadows. She let out a hoarse cry, moving even faster even as her body began losing blood faster in response to the increased pace, attempting to outrace the guard who was starting up the slope behind her, lazy smile on her face, for she knew her prey was dying. Abby didn’t so much as look back, thundering through the bushes and trees, each step leaving a bloody footprint, every iota of her being focused completely on Jimmy. For his part, Jimmy stood frozen in shock, rooted in the tiny niche where he’d stopped, leaves and shadows hiding his form from view, transfixed by the horror that was playing out in front of him.  
  
“Abby?” he croaked, and his voice nearly failed him.  
  
Abby just kept running towards him, face growing alarmingly pale, blood spurting from the ruin of her left arm. Ianto continued to shriek, drowning out any response that Abby might have made. Jimmy was careful to stay in the shadows, ghosting towards the wounded woman, freezing if he thought he saw the guard so much as glance in his direction.  
  
It was no more than a minute or two before Abby disappeared into the same set of shadows that Jimmy was in, immediately collapsing with a cry of pain. Ianto shut up, eyes enormous and uncomprehending. He pulled himself out from under Abby’s body, entire body trembling as he scrambled away. Jimmy placed a hand on Ianto’s shoulder, and the boy started, looking frightened. Jimmy ignored him for the moment, moving past him and towards Abby, gently turning her over.  
  
“Abby?” He whispered, heart thundering. Her breathing was almost nonexistent, the shallowest rise and fall of her chest. A black puddle was spreading beneath her, and though Jimmy knew the human body contained about five and a half liters of blood in it, it looked like more, so much more under the shimmer of the moon and stars. At his words, Abby stirred weakly, blood leaking out of her nose. Her breath began to rattle in her chest, and Jimmy just barely resisted the urge to yank his hands off of her and run, run away from her and from this and just forget, because thirteen year old boys weren’t supposed to see someone who had shown them kindness bleeding out on the ground.  
  
Then he glanced at Ianto’s shaking body and his mouth tightened.  
  
“What happened?” he said in an undertone, expecting any moment for the guard to come bursting from the shadows and kill both him and Ianto.  
  
“Came after us. Told me…told me I could live. But…I couldn’t…give…” Abby gasped, voice thin and quavering. Her mouth moved several times, and the face that Jimmy had always considered to be simply matronly now looked indescribably ancient and fragile. Abby’s mouth moved but produced no sound. She coughed, blood splattering her face, a few flecks landing on Jimmy’s face. He jerked back and nearly left her, but couldn’t. She had died to save Ianto.  
  
“It’s okay, Abby,” he soothed, and his voice was too calm. He knew that, knew his voice sounded wrong, and also knew that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “Ianto’s here, and I’ll keep him safe. You got him out, Abby. I promise he’ll be alright. It’s okay, Abby.” Mindless platitudes poured out of Jimmy’s mouth in that same distant tone. He dimly noted that a drop of the blood that Abby had coughed up was sliding down her cheek.  
  
Abby’s eyes looked past Jimmy’s face somehow, though, despite his effort to reassure her. Jimmy began to panic, unsure of what to do. “Abby, Abby, stay with me. What happened? Who sent those people!” He demanded, knowing his voice was getting too loud. He couldn’t stop himself from shaking Abby, like this was her fault, like somehow she had done this to him on purpose. “ You have to be okay! You have to! Please!” Now that damn burst, at least partially, and he started to sob, burying his face in Abby’s chest. She’d been kind to him, treating him like an adult for the most part, not just a worthless kid. She’d tried to help them, tried to get them all to get along.  
  
And Jimmy had taken no more notice of her than he had of a wall fixture.  
  
“Keep…safe.”  
  
Abby died.  
  
Jimmy stared at the body that had housed the woman who’d been kind to him, and inhaled a shuddering breath, that cold and distance snapping back into place as if his outburst had never happened at all. “Come on,” he said to Ianto.  
  
Ianto stared at him for a moment, and Jimmy knew he probably looked like a nightmare, scratches on his face and arms, blank eyes, the blood from Abby’s body covering the front of his shirt and his face like war paint. He stared at his own hands, blood already crusting over in dark globs. With an empty smile, he rubbed his hands against his jeans, hating the way they immediately made his pants feel tacky. “Come on, we have to leave,” he said in a stronger tone, but it still had that haunting chill.  
  
Ianto refused to let Jimmy touch him, but followed him easily enough. They didn’t dare talk, though, moving through the darkness as if they were shades, careful to avoid even the slightest hint of sentient life for fear that they would be discovered and killed with the same brutality that had characterized Abby‘s death.  
  
When Jimmy had left Kodos’s house, he’d thought the governor a fool for keeping such low security around the house. Now he was grateful, because it made their entrance that much quicker. They slipped past the guards and biometric sensors without a single pause, and Jimmy ushered Ianto into his room before shutting the door.  
  
Jimmy looked at his bed, the pajamas he’d discarded when Memeki has asked for his help, his PADD, his belongings, the things that had seemed so ordinary when he’d left, but now looked like they belonged in another galaxy. He moved as if in a dream, stripping off his clothes and throwing them in a corner where he wouldn’t have to acknowledge they existed. He showered, then, careful not to look in a mirror, careful to not look at the pink water under his feet. He scrubbed until he was an unhealthy red, his skin as raw as his nerves and soul.  
  
When he got out, he just felt…empty. He could see what he had to do stretched in front of him like a line: He needed to get the full story from Ianto, tell the others what happened, and figure out how to get out of here, away from Kodos.  
  
Because he had undoubtedly ordered their murder.  
  
The thought send Jimmy into a screaming rage, and he punched the wall, hard, letting out a sound that was purely bestial. He screamed every curse word he knew, though it never quite progressed to insults to Kodos. As far gone as he was, Jimmy wasn’t stupid, so he kept his ranting general. Pain swelled in his heart, threatening to choke him.  
  
Or perhaps it was just the sobs.  
  
He didn’t realize the racket would bring the others however, and Big J was pounding on the door within minutes. Ianto must have let him in, because Jimmy hadn’t even heard it over his own screams.  
  
He definitely noticed when Big J entered the room, however, because those enormous, powerful arms wrapped around him, preventing him from moving, and one large hand clapped over his mouth. Jimmy had just enough presence of mind not to bite the hand out of instinct.   
  
“What are you doing, fool boy?” Big J hissed into his ear, sounding furious. He stiffened in Big J’s arms, struggling to get free, to bite, to punch, to kick, anything to prevent him from thinking about it. Jimmy was half of Big J’s weight and half his size, however, and he didn’t get very far before he sagged in his friends arms, going completely limp as he began crying in earnest. Another set of wails joined his, but Jimmy barely noticed it when Ianto crawled into Big J’s arms too.  
  
It’s not possible to cry forever, though. Eventually they had both run out of tears for the moment, lying in Big J’s arms completely lax despite the fact that they were sitting on the bathroom floor with a giant hole in the wall above them from Jimmy‘s attack. Big J just ran his hands through their hair, lulling them towards sleep.  
  
“Jimmy, what happened?” Big J finally dared to ask. “Why is Ianto here?” His hands kept up the steady motion through their hair. Even if he hadn’t, however, Jimmy was still too numb to react any further. “Actually, wait, lemme get some stuff to take care of your hands first.”  
  
Exhausted, Jimmy looked at his hands, noting that the knuckles were bloody and swollen, and if the pain was anything to go by, cracked at the very least, but Jimmy hadn‘t noticed. “Okay,” he murmured. He followed Big J back out into the main room, taking the opportunity to pull on some pants while Big J carefully sat Ianto down on the bed. The elder boy then returned briefly to his own quarters before returning with a dermal regenerator and some gauze while Jimmy examined his hands.  
  
“Where did you get that?” Jimmy asked with some surprise when he saw what the other boy had gone to fetch.  
  
Big J shrugged a little. “It never hurts to be prepared,” he murmured, and then set to work healing Jimmy’s injuries to the best of his ability. It was the better part of twenty minutes before Big J was satisfied, and Jimmy’s hands looked rather like a mummy’s, they were so heavily wrapped in gauze. Jimmy made a sound of irritation, but Big J was not placated. “Better safe than sorry. Infection can do nasty things.”  
  
There was a darkness in his tone that made Jimmy believe it.  
  
“So what happened?” Big J asked again.  
  
Jimmy, who had successfully been pretending the events of earlier in the evening hadn’t actually happened, blanched. He swallowed, looking at Ianto. The boy had fallen asleep, curled up on Jimmy’s covers, looking too small. Jimmy knew it was selfish of him, but he shook Ianto awake, unable to face telling the truth of the matter by himself. _I don’t know the entire story_ , he justified in his head, but it didn’t make him feel any better.  
  
Ianto let out a little cry as his awoke, huddling under the covers. Big J wiped at Ianto’s cheeks with a piece of cloth that he had wet, and Jimmy wondered when he’d gone to the bathroom to do so. “Shhh,” Big J soothed, quieting the boy. “Come on now, the both of you, tell me what’s happened.” The older boy was beginning to look as ill as Jimmy felt, imagining the worst thing that could have happened.  
  
Jimmy didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to shatter Big J’s illusion that whatever he was thinking could be the worst possible scenario, but he couldn’t stand to be alone any more either. He needed someone to fix everything.  
  
So he told Big J what happened, Ianto’s tiny voice filling in the details, until the picture they’d painted was so bloody and horrific that Big J had to stop them just as they told him of Abby’s death so he could go to the bathroom. Jimmy could hear him vomiting, and though he didn’t blame him, it somehow made the little twisted portion of him happy, because at least he hadn’t thrown up, and he‘d seen the body. He immediately felt guilty about thinking it, but he couldn’t help it.  
  
The water ran for a few moments, and Big J came out wiping at his mouth. Jimmy couldn’t look at him, but a warm cloth was shoved in his face. It was only then that Jimmy realized he’d been crying silent tears for the entire conversation. He hadn‘t even noticed. “And then we came back here,” he finished, throat sounding dry to his ears.  
  
Big J was silent for a long time, long enough that Ianto fell asleep and Jimmy was feeling pretty drowsy himself, desperate for the oblivion of sleep.  
  
“Jimmy,” Big J sighed, “This ain’t good.”  
  
Jimmy let out a startled, if mocking, laugh at that. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he returned, and if he sounded a little more bitter than he should, Big J would understand.  
  
Big J looked pale in the darkness. “Listen, I’ve got to tell the others what happened. If what Ianto says is true, and Kodos really sent his people to kill the Colony Outreach Program members that weren’t actively helping…” he trailed off, and swallowed heard, the sound clicking loudly in the near silent room. “Look, I’ll tell the others. If he killed them, we’re probably next on the list. We’ve got to get out of here ASAP, alright? You get some rest, if you can. I‘ll get everyone up and tell them what happened, and we‘ll make some plans over the next couple of days to get out of here, alright? Maybe we‘ll be able to disappear in one of the cities until Starfleet gets here.” Big J licked his lips, and Jimmy was struck by how off balance Big J seemed, how worried and afraid.  
  
“Yeah.” Jimmy murmured. He was silent as Big J tucked him in next to Ianto absently, brushing back his hair before leaving the room.  
  
Though Jimmy’s eyes burned for sleep, though he was so unimaginably tired, he found himself unable to completely fall asleep. Instead, he teetered on the edge, shifting back and forth, though careful not to disturb Ianto. Daniel’s face kept staring out at him from the darkness, his excitement for language and linguistics practically visible. Nawat and his simple, pure interest in art, his sculptures that even Jimmy could tell were something special, expressing movement without movement. Andrelinna, whose talents lay in architecture, on being able to make the images she saw in her mind come to life. Deshtom had simpler interests; unlike the others, he didn’t have a particular talent, but had confided in Jimmy just the other day that he liked medicine most of all, because you had to be good at a lot of things, to understand how things are interconnected, and because medicine would let him help people. Gim and Gam and their innate understanding of psychology, successfully drawing parallels between the mind sets of entirely separate species in an effort to make people understand each other. Rukia’s beautiful singing voice was gone too, and Jimmy had liked it when she had sung, for her voice had the ability to make even this outer colony on the far reaches of the universe feel a little like home, even if her songs were from another world entirely. Izoivo, someone for whom diplomacy was everything; he had always felt that if you understood a culture, it’s history, it’s beliefs, if you truly made the effort to guilelessly connect to another species or group, you would be welcomed with open arms. Donna’s more subtle brilliance too. Her talents lay in being able to take something that wasn’t working, a language or an equation, and simply ask the right questions, which resulted in the entire situation being re-imagined, re-worked, until it was something more than it was before.  
  
All brilliant in their own ways, all able to understand the things around them in a way the others couldn’t.  
  
And Kodos had thrown them all aside like they were trash.  
  
There mere thought that Kodos somehow had the right, the _authority_ to do that, that he somehow believed that what he was doing was reasonable, made Jimmy see red. He flung back the covers, stalking around the room with fury boiling slow and hot in his stomach. He spotted the clothing he’d worn earlier, still shoved in the corner and absolutely stinking of blood, and Jimmy wanted nothing more than to burn it.  
  
The desire welled up so thick and hot in his throat that Jimmy had scooped up the clothing and left his room before he had the time to really think things through. All he knew was that the clothing absolutely could not remain in his room. He retained enough presence of mind to slip through the halls silently, heading without fail towards the incinerator that was attached to the kitchen, the one that was generally used for spoiled food or for trash that wasn’t bio-degradable or recyclable. The incinerator would be able to handle his clothing easily, and would even burn the ash away, until there was no trace that his clothing and the blood staining them had ever existed.  
  
The kitchen was silent- well, the entire house was silent, but the kitchen seemed to be particularly so- and Jimmy padded silently across the floor, holding his hands as far out in front of him as he could in an effort to keep the clothes as far away as possible. He swung open the incinerator door, ignoring the blast of heat and shoving his clothing down the chute. He heard them hit the bottom with a satisfying hiss, and the heat flared a little more as fuel was added. There was a little swell of vindictive satisfaction in Jimmy’s heart, as if somehow what he’d done would help him outwit Kodos. Jimmy stared at the metal grate for a long moment, staring without really seeing it.  
  
Footsteps sounded out in the hallway.


	7. There Isn't a Flag I'd Wave

Jimmy was up and scrambling for a hiding place before he’d even realized what he was hearing, instincts getting him out of the way before his forebrain could mess things up. He hid himself in the pantry, and for a brief second he was nothing but grateful that the famine had cleared so much space, or he’d have been unable to hide in there. With baited breath he waited, hoping the sound of him getting into the pantry hadn’t been loud enough to warrant inspection, wondering who the footsteps belonged to, praying that he wouldn’t be discovered; no matter the circumstances, if he was found hiding in the pantry, he either looked like a shameless thief who was eating food as he pleased during a famine, or he looked like a dangerous weapon to be used against Kodos, if the governor knew the circumstances.

The footsteps, however, passed by the double doors leading into the kitchen without pausing, and Jimmy signed in relief.

With the utmost care, Jimmy extricated himself from the pantry and made his way over to the doors, opening one with as much care as he could muster. He peeked around the doorway, curiosity momentarily tamping down the overwhelming fear he’d felt only seconds ago.

It was Kodos, and from the glimpse of his face that Jimmy caught just as the governor turned the corner, the man was furious. Jimmy didn’t know what possessed him to follow the dangerous man- and he was dangerous, even if nothing could be proven yet- as he returned to his office. Jimmy kept well behind him, blending into the shadows in his dark pants and grey shirt, as if he’d known he would be sneaking around even more this evening.

“You’re here,” Jimmy heard Kodos say in a flat voice. “Good.”

There was a shutting of the door; though the entire outside of the governor’s house was covered from every angle from state of the art security, the inside was yet another show of Kodos’s power. Almost every room in the entire building had some sort of antique, whether a vase from Ming Dynasty China, or an Andorian statue made from the shimmering purple stone they called dempa, or a crystal chandelier that used actual wax candles to light a room. It was the same with the doors and floors- such a simple thing, normally, but instead of the sliding automatic doors and plain flooring, Kodos had imported antique doors that actually used hinges, complete with doorknobs.

And while the antique doors were a lot more aesthetically pleasing, it was damn near impossible to really soundproof them.

Jimmy crept forward, hardly daring to breathe as he crouched near the doorframe, all his muscles tensed and coiled, ready to throw himself away from the door and down the hall before anyone could be the wiser. He stared blankly at the opposite wall, focusing on listening attentively to the conversation occurring in the room. From the sounds of things, he was listening to the tail end of the discussion.

“-fool!’ Kodos was saying. “Tell your men to set the building on fire- find a good reason for it too; I can’t believe you just left their bodies there! Anyone could wander along, knock on the door, figure out what happened, and raise the sort of fuss that I really don’t need to deal with right now, not when I’m still going over the results of those tests! I can‘t have them being alerted before the selection process has been completed.”

Selection process? Jimmy wondered.

“Yes, sir,” the other person said, sounding obnoxiously respectful, fawning over Kodos, as if he deserved the attention. “Right away sir. I’ll have my people get on it. Before I leave, sir, I was hoping I could ask a few questions.”

“If it will get you back to work any faster I will gladly respond to any questions you have.”

I just…” the man- for the voice seemed to deep too be that of a woman’s- paused for a second. There was something dark and eager in his voice that rubbed against Jimmy the wrong way. “I was just curious, sir, why you had us kill them second. I mean, I know we’ll have to cut down the population to make sure the best people survive, but wouldn’t it be easier to round them all up at once? Instead, first it was the elderly and lame, then those goddamn geniuses, next probably the local idiots, it doesn‘t matter, so long as the people who have the necessary and worthy talents live, but wouldn’t it be easier simply to handle it all at once? You could round them up and gas them- there are some noxious things down in the labs that are easy to make, or you could simply put them in the jail or something. I dunno.”

Jimmy abruptly was left feeling cold and nauseous even as he stayed in his low crouch. The confirmation of what he’d suspected, they’d all suspected was going on came as a nearly physical blow. Nevertheless, there had been no way for Jimmy to confirm it, no way to actually lay the blame at Kodos’s feet. It would be his word against Kodos’s, and Jimmy suspected he knew how that would go. They would say he was a child, that he didn’t understand what he was talking about, that surely he was mistaken. They were all terrified, and it was better to deal with the devil you knew; no one was stupid enough to believe that anyone but Kodos was truly in charge; hell, with martial law in place, the paltry little government that was in place on Tarsus IV was all but ineffective. Any outcry would be immediately and harshly silenced to allow Kodos his continued control. Instead of outcry, everyone was fighting to remain on his good side, hoping that by sucking up to him, they would gain enough of his favor to survive the coming storm.

Jimmy was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed it when Kodos began his response, deep voice filled with an ancient and terrible conviction. “I will weed out the weak, those who will drag the rest of us down, those who will result in the death of more worthy members of society. But I am no fool. I must be subtle, for there are bleeding hearts among my populace who would defy me, who would kill us all for some imagined idea of ‘good’. I will not have it. I will save what is mine- after all, even a mutilated body is better than having no body at all, and if I must remove some of the liver to keep the heart, the lungs of my people going, I will do it gladly. I will do it a thousand times over. We don’t have enough food for more than half the population. Therefore, half the population must be killed. The elderly first were a kindness. They lack the strength to keep healthy during famine. And the offworlders, that was a mercy too. You know how irrational mobs and rioters get- they would have gotten around to killing them eventually, because the blame is always laid at the feet of the ‘other’ in this universe. And that death would not have been kind. This way, I save the ones that may be of use, and kill the ones that are worthless.”

Worthless.

Abby. Daniel. Rukia. Deshtom. Gim. Gam. Andrelinna. Nawat. Donna. Izoivo.

Worthless.

Worthless.

Worthless.

Jimmy understood now what people meant when they talked about flying into blind rages, when they spoke of being filled to the brim with fury so fierce that it was uncontrollable, when they described how it would take over your thoughts, until nothing else existed. In that instant he could have been slapped, mocked, even shot, and he would not have responded, would not have even been aware of it happening.

He forced himself to breathe through the rage, forced himself not to cry out. It must not have worked, because he heard Kodos say sharply, “What was that?”

Jimmy’s coiled muscles didn’t betray him, however, and he was up and around the corner before he heard the scrape of a chair that indicated that someone was getting up from their seat in the office. He simply ran, blindly, trying to prevent himself from making a sound, refusing to allow so much as a heaving breath to indicate his position. He nearly slipped on the dark floor several times before he reached his room, and each time a sob nearly escaped from his chest.

He flung himself into the room, shuddering, and rushed to his bathroom, sliding across the floor in order to make it to the toilet before throwing up- or at least attempting to. He mostly just dry heaved, as there was nothing much in his stomach to throw up, but the bile tore at his throat. This time when he cried it was nearly silent, for no noise could fully encompass what he was feeling.

A short eternity later, Jimmy finally relaxed his death hold on the toilet, sagging back limply. He couldn’t bear to stay with the taste of bile in his mouth for more than a few seconds, however, so he got up to rinse his mouth and sip some water, which soothed his throat.

We’ve got to get out of here, Jimmy thought to himself desperately, shoulders shaking as he braced himself against the sink. As before, he couldn’t bear to face himself in the mirror. He wiped at his face too, removing sweat that was as much from fear as it was from his run back to his room. He didn’t feel clean when he’d wiped it off his face, however, and he found himself taking his second shower of the day, feeling completely wrecked, as though he’d spent the better part of a week straight without sleep instead of just a single night. The hot water sluiced over him, washing away the sticky sweat that had gathered in the creases of his skin. He turned his face up to the spray, running his hands through his hair, wishing there was something that would let him leave the shower and sleep, if only for an hour or two.

He stumbled out, scowling as the clock reported that it was two in the morning. Ianto had spread himself across Jimmy’s covers, arms and legs flung out and taking up a large portion of the bed. Jimmy sighed and pushed Ianto into a more reasonable shape, yanking the covers out from under his body. He crawled under them, Ianto snuffling a little as he adjusted to the warmth that Jimmy represented. Immediately Ianto clung to him like a limpet, and Jimmy couldn’t find it in him to blame the boy. Hell, Jimmy rather wished that he had…that he had…

That he had his mom there. To give him a hug and kiss and to say that everything was going to be alright. He’d never believed her before, even as she comforted him after nightmares. His dad was reason enough not to believe her, and the one time he’d said as much he heard her crying in her room later- in their room, the room that should have been for husband and wife and was far too big for a widow.

Jimmy had never said it again, because no one wants to make their mom cry.

As much as he’d dismissed her at the time, however, Jimmy wished now that she was here.

Because maybe this time he’d believe her.

He thought he’d be unable to sleep, but the weariness was tugging at him now, pulling him into a sleep plagued with half memories that had been twisted out of shape, with anxiety and pain. Even though his mind was stressed, running in circles around the same ideas and worries, he somehow managed to rest, and when his alarm went off Jimmy groaned, feeling as though he’d gotten absolutely no sleep at all for as tired as he felt. He’d have almost been better off just staying up through the night if this was going to be the effect of attempting to sleep with the events of yesterday the focus of his mind.

Ianto stirred beside him, kicking Jimmy in the ribs as he changed position. Jimmy let out a yelp. He said aloud, “James T. Kirk, confirming wake-up call.”

“Have a nice day!” the alarm said cheerfully in response, and Jimmy nearly pitched it against the wall in a fit of frustration. He managed to resist and crawled out of his bed, throwing on water clothes came to hand and not bothering to so much as comb his hair, though he did brush his teeth and splash water on his face in an effort to seem more awake. It didn’t help the shadows under his eyes or the face that his face was too pale, his eyes to stormy to be considered normal. He rubbed at his face with a towel, already sick of the day, and knowing it could only get worse.

And it did, of course. Jimmy instructed Ianto to stay put first, warning him to hide if anyone entered the room, though Jimmy didn’t think it would do much good, considering there wasn’t exactly a surplus of places to hide, even if it was only Ianto’s small frame. Ianto simply nodded, still looking too tired, too quiet, too wan, too…sad. Jimmy’s mouth tightened as he surveyed the room. Ianto was still in the dirty clothes he’d been in yesterday, and Jimmy told him to throw something of his on, and to rinse the clothes if he could. Normally Jimmy would have just said to get rid of them, but he could hear the echo of Kodos’s demand that they burn the place down. There was nothing else for Ianto to wear, because everything he’d brought with them would be long gone by now.

Then Jimmy had been forced to listen in stony silence as Kodos revealed that the program house had burnt down with everyone in it. Jimmy nearly decked the governor for his condolences, for daring to offer a listening ear if they needed it, but the hot fury of the last night had coiled into something altogether more dangerous: patience. Patience and the knowledge that when the time was right, Jimmy would strike the poisonous old snake when he least expected it, and would leave as much damage as he could, even if it meant his death. So Jimmy pretended to be in shock like he was expected to be. He could tell that Big J had warned the others of what had really happened, even if they didn‘t yet know the whole story- when the news was revealed, Memeki didn’t say a single word about how she’d begged Jimmy to get the scroll her dapi had given her. Jimmy felt a pang go through his chest, a sense of profound loss flooding through him that he hadn’t been able to do as she’d asked.

On top of that, they were expected to do their regular work, as if they could focus between the grim reality and the fact that people they’d known and cared for had been killed by the man who told them the news. The day wore on forever, until finally Ingrid sent Jimmy out, to prevent him from blowing either himself or someone else up.

By unspoken agreement, they all gathered in Jimmy’s room, cramped though it was. They ate their dinners, meager as they were, in near silence, each person taking a little of their meal and giving it to Ianto, who still looked as though he was in shock from the previous day’s events. Jimmy felt that way too, sometimes, burning hot and cold in equal measures.

When the meal was finished, but before anyone else had the chance to open their mouths, Jimmy told them all what he’d discovered when he’d gone to throw out his clothing last night. It was a stumbling, awkward tale, filled with moments where he wasn’t sure what to say, how to describe what happen, because he was stuck between trying to be clinical, removed from the situation, yet simultaneously needing them to understand, to acknowledge the pain and suffering he’d experienced as a result.

“Jimmy,” Big J finally breathed at the end, and the older boy got up and hugged Jimmy tight around the shoulders. Jimmy clutched at him as though he would disappear once Big J let go. “Oh Jimmy,” Big J murmured, running his hand through Jimmy’s hair as he had last night. Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stem the tears, but a few still trickled through.

“That’s all well and good,” Ebenezer finally growled, clenching and unclenching his hands rhythmically, “but that leaves us the question of what to do next.”

And thus the conversation dissolved into chaos, each person attempting to put their own opinion forward. Big J only had to remind everyone once to keep their voices down- no one dared to speak loudly enough to catch the attention of Kodos or one of his guards. Instead, they hissed their remarks, using biting tones and rough words instead of shouts. Eventually, however, the evening wore into early morning, and Jimmy was nearly falling asleep on his feet. He’d contributed earlier in the evening, arguing as passionately as anyone else about his opinions (which were, Jimmy had to admit, largely unreasonable, since they mostly involved killing Kodos for what he’d done, and in an effort to prevent him from killing more people under his care) but he’d slipped towards silence, listening instead.

He was the youngest kid awake, Ianto, Memeki, Savik, Karrin and O’las having long since been sent back to their rooms to get what rest they could. Or rather, the others had been sent back to their rooms and Ianto was once more curled up on Jimmy’s bed and dead to the world. As a result, the conversation had gotten even quieter in an effort not to disturb Ianto.

It was rapidly approaching dawn before they managed to agree on what to do, and the plan was elegant in its simplicity. Stealth would be their friend, and they would take advantage of the same thing that Jimmy had the previous day to get out to the program house- the fact that Kodos wasn’t using the guards to keep his home secure, but instead had deployed them to the cities to keep the peace. As a result, Kodos’s home was a ghost town, for even the servants left for the night to return to their residences.

It would be simple then, with proper planning, to leave Kodos’s house in two days time, to slip out without warning and give themselves several hours before the man would notice the fact that they had disappeared; that everyone could agree on. They didn’t dare wait any longer than a day or two before departing, however, because it would be difficult to try and keep what they knew a secret as well as keep the fact that Ianto was present in the governor’s house under his nose, and they had no desire to do so for any longer than was absolutely necessary. The trouble came with their inability to agree on what to do after they had left. The suggestions varied from working against Kodos as some sort of free agents to hiding in the wilderness in an effort to avoid the people that Kodos would surely sent after them when he realized what they’d done.

It was Gretchen who finally suggested that they should track down Dr. Jameson, so as to warn him what Kodos was planning in the hopes that the populace would listen to him. She spoke slowly, sounding out the plan carefully.

“And then what? We’ll just hope that he puts up with us?” Ebenezer demanded. “Sure, I bet he’ll believe us if we tell him the truth of what happened, especially because Abby was…” Ebenezer swallowed, blinking a little too rapidly, then said, “Abby was his friend. He’ll do whatever it takes to undermine Kodos’s power if it means that he’ll be saving lives in the process. But I’m not so sure that he’ll be able to do anything about us. There’s what, eleven of us? Where is he going to hide eleven fugitives, people who are dangerous because they know the truth of what’s happening? How do you even know that he‘ll be willing to do it in the first place? He might just decide that we‘re too dangerous and turn us over to the guards. Then where will we be?”

“No worse off than we are already,” Yana snapped back. “Gretchen is right. Dr. Jameson is our best odds to get the word out- no one is going to believe a couple of offworlders. Anything we say will sound more than half crazy, and traitorous to boot. If it comes from someone like him, a doctor that was out there during the riots, that understands what the people are going through, a lot more people will believe, and isn’t that all that really matters? Besides, he went out of his way to make sure that Abby knew what was going on, and even made sure we got out of the program house and to Kodos‘s alright. I think he’ll be able to point us in the right direction as far as what we should do next, since he knows this place a lot better than we do.”

Ebenezer couldn’t fault their argument any more than Big J or Roshaun could, and even Jimmy could see that the doctor was their best hope, the only one they really knew on this planet besides the scientists and the men and women who worked directly for Kodos, all of whom were too close to Kodos’s fold to risk their inclusion. Gretchen and Yana spoke persuasively for a few more moments, trying to bring the others around to their point of view; slowly, one after another they were won over by the logic. They agreed that while the plan wasn’t the best, per se, it was the only feasible one, the only way they could see to both get the news out and hide in plain sight until Kodos was- hopefully- dispatched by the very same people he was planning on killing in an effort to make the food last longer for the ‘worthy’ citizens.

It was nearly four in the morning before they all departed Jimmy’s room, slipping back to their own in the pre-dawn light. Jimmy sat on his bed, exhausted and hoping against hope that he would be able to rest peacefully so he could actually function the following day. Again he was forced to push Ianto aside so as to reclaim some of the bed for himself, staring at the opposite wall with dull eyes that burned with the lack of sleep.

Like the previous night, weariness tugged at his bones enough that he was able to get some rest, but it was still plagued by nightmares, and twice he woke up gasping just before he or the people he was with were killed by Kodos in a dream. Again the alarm came far too early for Jimmy’s taste, and he was groggy when he said aloud, “James T Kirk, confirming wake up call.” He was groggy enough that it came out garbled, and Jimmy was forced to repeat it twice more, each time with increasing frustration, before the alarm finally shut off. Ianto didn’t stir, and Jimmy greatly begrudged him the ability to sleep at all.

Two nights with less than four hours of sleep were not making Jimmy a happy person, but he managed to stumble through his morning routine without accidentally killing himself, which he counted as a bonus. Unlike the day before, however, when he existed in a constant haze of rage and sadness, today he was simply numb, existing in a different sort of haze, one that left him listless and unable to full concentrate on his work.

Jimmy ignored the looks of pity and sorrow he was treated to all day, to the murmured condolences for Abby and the others, as though that could make it all better, as if it was supposed to comfort him. Jimmy accepted them with a placidness that he knew was wrong; he knew he should be yelling at them to blame Kodos, not make awkward little apologies when they didn’t know what else to say. They didn’t burn in a fire, they were murdered, murdered in cold blood and without care.

Jimmy rubbed at his forehead, trying to fight the headache building in his temples, in part from what had happened the last few days, in part because he couldn’t deal with another offer of sympathy, especially from Kodos, who had been positively simpering when he’d stopped by after the meager lunch. The haze cleared for those few moments when Kodos had clapped a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. Jimmy had been unable to keep himself from tensing under Kodos’s grip, flinching back from the touch. He covered it with a weak smile, eyes flickering down.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “You…startled me.” Jimmy hunched his shoulders, rubbing at his face.

Kodos smiled thinly. “It’s quite alright. I’m sorry for the pain you have endured. I assure you, I am working as best as I can to find the terrible perpetrators who killed my dear friend Abby and the other members of my program. I can’t express how thankful I am that I was able to inadvertently rescue you. I hope you will look upon this as your home for the duration of your stay.”

Even through the numb haze, Jimmy nearly punched him for that one. Though he didn’t do anything, Kodos seemed to sense his intention, and the thin smile turned positively icy. To placate him, Jimmy attempted a false smile, but his muscles wouldn’t work, wouldn’t shape the careless grin that he’d worn so easily merely three days ago. Kodos left him alone then, thankfully, left him alone to stare blankly at the equations before him.

The following day passed much the same, with the same feeling of numbness in the wake of fire and fury. Jimmy went through the motions of doing his work, more preoccupied with hoping that Ianto wouldn’t be discovered, that they wouldn’t be caught as they tried to escape, that they would somehow survive the coming months despite the fact that winter was coming on top of the famine. He worried for the future, for his friends, for what Kodos was planning to do. It made him snap at the men and women he was working with though it wasn’t their fault. He grunted apologies, and tried not to see the still-present pity in their eyes for his loss. He simply wanted to get out of Kodos’s house, to stop working for him, to stop wondering if this was the minute where Kodos’s guards would come bursting into the room and drag him and the others away in chains so they could be killed. The very thought left him jumpy for hours, especially as evening approached.

As they time that they had decided to leave came nearer and nearer, Jimmy began having second thoughts. He hadn’t expected to, but suddenly there seemed to be a thousand and one things that could go wrong, a thousand and one things that could lead to their demise. He began pacing his room, stalking from one corner to the other, the most precious things of his life held in a bag over his shoulder, while Ianto watched him with eyes too weary to belong to so young a child. The Ianto before Abby’s death had been shy and sweet, but now he was closed off, as though a part of him had died when Abby had.

Jimmy could sympathize, because he felt that way sometimes too.

He wanted to tell Ianto that it would be okay, but he had no way of knowing, no way to keep his promise. So instead Jimmy smiled weakly at Ianto and returned to his pacing, wondering when Big J would finally come to collect him. They were planning on leaving in stages, in groups of two or three, and Big J, Ianto and Jimmy would be the last group; they planned to meet at the outskirts of the city, but by leaving gradually they hoped their departure would be less noticeable than if a group of eleven attempted to make their way through Kodos’s grounds and to the city on foot with naught but their personal belongings. Two or three people would also be more easily ignored by the sensors than an entire group, and Ebenezer and Roshaun had spent the previous night ensuring that nothing technological would realize- or report- their absence. Jimmy hoped belatedly that he hadn’t set anything off, but considering the general lack of outcry from Kodos about the fact that he had been sneaking off the grounds at the same time that his men were attacking Abby and the others, Jimmy guessed that for some reason Kodos and his men either hadn’t recently checked the tapes or had turned them off for the duration of the attack. Jimmy suspected it was the second, since the program house was on Kodos’s grounds, and he wouldn’t want any record of what he was doing to exist.

When the nearly silent knock on the door finally sounded, Jimmy practically leapt for it, opening the door as quickly as he could manage. Big J stood at the threshold, hand raised for another knock. He raised an eyebrow, face creasing a little in laughter. Jimmy flushed, but didn’t respond, waving for Ianto to come. Like before, the halls were empty and silent, with not a soul in sight to catch them. Jimmy’s heart pounded frantically the entire time, however, as he expected each shadow to hold a guard, each movement out of the corner of his eye to be a phaser about to be fire.

Despite Jimmy’s worries, the task of escaping proved to be no harder than it had several nights previous, and Jimmy was strangely furious at Kodos’s overconfidence, his belief that no one knew what he was up to, that no one would dare harm him even if all of his men had been sent out to control the population of Tarsus IV. They slipped out the last door, shutting it firmly behind him and it was only then that Jimmy’s heart began to calm by slow degrees. They crept across the lawn, sticking to the shadows cast by the various bushes and trees that could be found everywhere. They generally avoided the path as they walked the eight miles in the cold of the night to the edges of the city. It took nearly two hours, bogged down as they were with their personal belongings, but there hadn’t been so much as a hint that they should leave them. Until they were able- if they were able- to get off this planet, their personal items were all they had of home, all they had of the families and friends who loved them, all they had to remember that Tarsus IV and Kodos wasn’t all there was to this universe.

The others were waiting for Jimmy, Big J and Ianto, and when they appeared over the edge of the hill, Jimmy could practically sense their relief. Jimmy smiled a little, feeling himself relax a little more as he saw the faces of the others, glad that they had made it thus far without harm. It was another minute or two before they were close enough that they could speak without worrying about drawing attention to themselves, however, so Jimmy kept his greeting to a brief wave, as did everyone else.

When they finally met up, it was as though they weren’t sure how to continue. They stared at each other awkwardly, unwilling to blatantly address what had brought them this far. Ebenezer grunted, finally, breaking the strange tension between them all and held up a piece of paper. “I tracked down Dr. Jameson’s home address on my PADD.” he said aloud, and it gave them all something else to focus on.

“I know where that is,” Gretchen announced, scrunching her face up in thought. “At least, I’m pretty sure I know where it is. When…” she licked her lips a little nervously, and she had to blink a couple of times before she was able to continue. “When I went with Rukia to do some shopping a couple of times, I’m pretty sure we passed this street.”

“Can you take us there now?” Savik asked, ever the impatient one.

Karrin elbowed him, and Savik was on the verge of retaliating when he caught sight of the stern looks on Roshaun and Big J’s faces especially. He settled for making a face at her and stepping away to prevent the air from being knocked out of him again.

Gretchen worried her lip for a moment, and then nodded. “I think I can. I can get us to the general area, at least.”

Jimmy adjusted his pack before they set off following Gretchen into the city proper. It was an organized city, unlike New York or Boston back on Earth. It was more in keeping with San Francisco, which had been more carefully designed than its predecessors. To that end, the city was patterned more or less in the style of a grid, each street carefully labeled, even if the cars used the magnetic strip and GPS for Tarsus IV to orient itself; enough people walked around the city. Jimmy had never been able to think of it as a city, truly, since the population was not that much bigger than that of Riverside in Iowa, and nowhere near approaching the near billion people present in New York, or Vulcan’s Shi’Kahr, or even Cardassia’s Gemvar. It was, however, the closest thing they had to a city- nearly five thousand people lived here, the other three thousand or so spread across three other settlements.

It didn’t take them as long as Jimmy thought it would to traverse the city and get to Dr. Jameson’s house, even with the unexpected realization that there were guards posted all over the city, carefully keeping an eye on the citizens in an effort to keep order. There were only so many people that could stand watch and enforce martial law, since Kodos‘s guards only comprised about a tenth of the population, if that. There were entire streets that showed not a single sign of life, that were completely unwatched. As a result, though they were forced to take several detours and there were some terrifying moments where they were forced to take last minute cover and scatter, hiding themselves as best they could so as to avoid attracting attention, they were eventually successful in reaching their goal.

Dr. Jameson’s house was a quiet affair, like most of the other homes in the area. It was a quiet two story building that harkened back to the older styles of design found on Earth. It wasn’t made of wood, but of a special polycarbonate mimicry that made it all but indestructible. Nevertheless, the design wasn’t unlike that of Jimmy’s home in Iowa, complete with a wraparound porch that could have come straight out of the 18th or 19th centuries. It was a blue color, with large bay windows and a kind of placid warmth that welcomed you casually forward. Though the plague had destroyed much of the grains and vegetables, it hadn’t touched the flowers and shrubbery, and even though most of them were dying in the fall chill, Jimmy was surprised to find how much he enjoyed seeing them.

The entire group, Gretchen, Ianto, Roshaun, Ebenezer, Savik, Karrin, O’las, Memeki, Yana, Big J and finally Jimmy traversed up the steps, crowding awkwardly on Dr. Jameson’s porch, casting about warily for some sign that their presence had been noticed by a guard or a neighbor.

It was Big J who finally stepped forward, pushing past all his friends in order to get to the front, where he rang the doorbell for a few seconds before stepping back and waiting, like they all were, nerves raw and hoping that Dr. Jameson would come to the door and let them in.

Five minutes passed, a long five minutes that seemed to Jimmy more of a short eternity than anything else. He, like most of the others, fidgeted and shifted from foot to foot, unable to keep adrenaline from making his heart race and his breathing speed up.

Just as Big J was about to ring again, the door opened.

Dr. Jameson stood there, hair in disarray, wearing loose sweatpants and a t-shirt. He looked shocked to see them, and his gaze passed from face to face, picking up on the agony, the misery, the worry, the fear, the anger. All of it.

He sighed, looking more defeated in that moment than Jimmy had thought possible.

“Well, it looks like you had better come in.”


	8. For This Dance We'll Move With Each Other

Spock set down his PADD, having finished the last of the reports compiled for him in his absence, which had included not only a full report on what had happened down on the planet, but reports on Acting Captain Sulu’s orders and the progress made on each project, in addition to the normal data and reports that had been sent for his signature before being sent to Starfleet command in the subspace communication encrypted data burst.  
  
He sent the appropriate reports to the appropriate personnel, then set down his PADD, unable to stop the worry for his Captain from welling up in his chest and momentarily freezing him in place. He tried to press it down, but it would not be stopped, and Spock could hardly believe that once upon a time he’d viewed Captain Kirk as an irresponsible, irrational and immature teen, barely able to take care of himself, let alone others.  
  
Somehow that had transformed, starting that fateful day when Vulcan had become a singularity, and Spock found now that he could not quite quash his feeling of friendship for the man, despite his best efforts. Instead, he was stuck wondering at the equal parts of ingenuity, kindness, strict discipline, genius and more that Kirk employed to make sure the Enterprise was unparalleled among the fleet for more than just its state of the art equipment. Kirk would do anything, sacrifice anything he had to in order to do what needed to be done, to ensure that his crew were happy and safe, and that sort of devotion couldn’t help but resonate amongst even the most stoic of the crew.  
  
As a result, they were all held in his thrall, as though he was the center of the universe and their role was simply to watch him be great; and yet even that description made Kirk somehow less than he was, for Kirk did not dominate, did not take undue credit, did not make the crew feel like anything less than the most worthy people that the Captain had ever met. It was a curious dichotomy that had somehow knitted the crew together in a way that Spock had seen on few other ships, and led to a generally trusting atmosphere and feeling of goodwill that helped everyone perform at their best.  
  
Spock very much wanted his Captain back, and it sent a stirring of unease through his entire body as he realized that if need be, he would gladly shed the blood of his Captain’s kidnappers if it meant that Kirk would be able to return to the Enterprise.  
  
“Captain!” Chekov called, turning from his station and facing Spock.  
  
“Yes, Ensign Chekov?”  
  
“I need you to authorize the change in navigation to compensate for the planet’s gravitational pull.”  
  
“Very well. Make the necessary corrections and implement them.”  
  
It seemed that the Ensign’s words broke some sort of barrier, because Spock was inundated with various questions and requests for the first time since he’d returned to the bridge as Acting Captain and Sulu had returned to the pilot’s chair.  
  
An hour or so passed before Spock was called down to the labs, to where the various scanners were housed, in an effort to help with the temporary recalibration to compensate for the sun’s radiation. The task was proving more difficult than he had been expecting, because the sun was releasing more gamma radiation than was usual for a star of that size.  
  
He had been at his work for two hours, interrupted fairly frequently by the constant flow of reports and requests that were necessary to keeping the ship running when Mr. Scott contacted him.  
  
“Capt’n! Capt’n!” The Scotsman shouted excitedly over his comm, sounding more jovial than Spock had ever heard him.  
  
“Yes, Mr. Scott?” Spock responded coolly, stepping away from the program he was working with and signaling that another scientist should take over; from the sounds of things, Spock thought it was likely that he would have to go down to the transporter room to see exactly what had Mr. Scott so excited.  
  
“I think I found it! I think I found the Captain’s signal!”  
  
Spock froze for a moment, knowing what Mr. Scott had said and yet strangely unable to believe it. “I will be in the transporter room in a moment.”  
  
“Did Mr. Scott find something?” the Lieutenant who had taken his workplace asked, her face alighting with a painful hope. She stopped all of her work in order to turn and face him, studying his face as though she would find the answer there without verbal confirmation from the First Officer.  
  
“Mr. Scott just reported that he believes he has found the Captain’s signal,” Spock reported.  
  
The painful hope in the woman’s face brightened, and a low murmur broke out over the entire room, the cheer in their voices unmistakable. People were already passing the news onto their companions across the ship, and Spock knew that within moments, everyone would know of the discovery. News and gossip traveled fast when there were only five hundred people on the ship; it was smaller than even a town.  
  
Spock said his farewell and made his way to the transporter room, ignoring the fact that instead of his pace being his usual brisk walk, it was now near a run. He could see the same painful hope that he had seen in the scientist in almost every member of the crew he passed; as he moved through the corridors, everyone moved out of his way immediately and without hesitation, none of them willing to put themselves in the path of their First Officer.  
  
When he stepped into the transporter room, Mr. Scott and the engineers that he’d been working began to attempt to speak at once. Their voices worked against each other, and Spock could make nothing coherent of the din. He held up a hand, and the men and women fell silent. “How have you ascertained the Captain’s location?”  
  
As one body, the engineers stepped away from Mr. Scott, allowing their eccentric Chief Engineer to take the majority of the credit. The man cleared his throat and then said in his Scottish burr, “Well, I was able to compensate for the radiation and the interference we were gettin’ from the planet i’self, and finally I was able to get the machinery to recognize the fact that the Captain still has a signal that he’s transmitting. I-”  
  
Doctor McCoy came barreling into the room, clearly have run from Medical Bay, and nearly ran into Spock. “You found Jim?” He asked, panting a little, dark eyes gazing at the Scotsman as if he held all the answers. “Well? Didn’t you find him? Why hasn’t he been beamed up? If-”  
  
“Doctor!” Spock interrupted reprovingly. “Mr. Scott is currently explaining the situation. Given that Jim is not currently in Medical Bay, you last question is supercilious. Clearly, though Mr. Scott has indeed been successful in locating the Captain, I assume that there is some reason that he was unable to beam the Captain up. In addition, I believe that you have your own work in Medical Bay to complete, and considering that you do not hold a degree in engineering, it is unlikely that you will be helpful in this particular situation. If you would return to Medical Bay, so that I might discuss the details of the situation with Mr. Scott?”  
  
The blithe dismissal had McCoy’s eyebrows meeting and a flash of anger crossed his face. “Now see here-”  
  
Spock interrupted once more, for his patience and calm, usually endless, had long since expired. It had expired, in fact, the moment that he’d been told the news of the Captain’s kidnapping, and he wasn’t able to hold onto more than the dredges of it as he turned fully to face the doctor. “I am able to see the situation quite clearly, Doctor, I assure you. I am asking now that you return to your work and allow me to continue with mine, so that we may return the Captain with all possible haste.” Something remarkably like pain flashed across the doctor’s face, and Spock found himself sympathizing with Doctor McCoy, as his feelings echoed Spock’s. Softening slightly so as to mitigate the effects of his harsh words, Spock finished, “Doctor, I realize that you were hoping that the Captain had been returned, but he was not, unfortunately. Mr. Scott has located his signal, and with any luck we will soon be able to transport him back, but at this time there is nothing that you can do except return to your work while we continue ours. Please, Doctor.”  
  
“We’ll keep you updated,” Mr. Scott said kindly. “If we find anything more, I promise you’ll be one of the first to know. If we‘ve got his signal, it‘ll be no time at all before we can get him back. Plus, since we have his signal in the first place, it means he‘s alive. You know the signal automatically turns off when it no longer picks up the pulse and breathing. So…that‘s something.”  
  
McCoy closed his eyes for a long moment, then rubbed at his face wearily. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. It’s just…” He smiled briefly, but it lacked his usual warmth. Doctor McCoy turned his worried eyes to Spock then, seeking a confirmation of Mr. Scott’s conclusion, and the First Officer nodded his agreement. “Indeed.”  
  
McCoy nodded shortly, tension hunching his shoulders painfully. “Yeah,” he said shortly, and then added, in a quiet voice. “Thank you, Spock, Scotty.”  
  
Both of them nodded briefly as the doctor left, Mr. Scott saying as soon as he was gone, “Poor lad. The Capt’n is like his brother- I can’t imagine how worried he is about him.”  
  
“Then let us continue, so that we might alleviate his fears,” Spock said, a touch sharply, though he didn’t know why.  
  
The engineer seemed to take no offense, however, and directed Spock to the transporter console, which had various wiring and assorted devices hanging out of it, explaining as he pointed out the various changes they made. After a lengthy explanation involving the rewiring he’d done to get through to the planet’s surface again, mentioning in the process that his calculations revealed that Kirk was no longer on the surface, but under it, he revealed that while he’d been able to find the Captain’s signal, he’d been unable to get a lock on it, hence his inability to beam Jim Kirk back.  
  
“The thing of it is,” Mr. Scott finished with great frustration, “is that as soon as we find the signal, the transporter usually recognizes the signal and is able to get a lock on it. It’s a direct relationship that doesn’t require manual interference, because if it did, it would make things more complicated than they needed to be. But this time it’s not recognizing it. We’re trying to lock in by hand, but for some reason it isn’t taking. I mean, it worked earlier, or else we wouldn‘t have been able to beam you all up the first time you went down. I can‘t figure out why I haven‘t been able to get a lock!” Mr. Scott gesticulated wildly, trying to make Spock understand the depth of his irritation. “I’ve been working to get it connected, but it’s not going as well as I hoped.”  
  
Spock nodded. Transporter technology was not his specialty, though he knew the basic mechanics. As he’d told the doctor to stick to his specialty, he could do no less. “If we are unable to get a lock on his signal, I will have a team head down in four hours time. We cannot afford to spend an excessive amount of time attempting to get a lock, or we may lose his signal. In addition, if we wait any more than four hours, we will not have sufficient sunlight with which to execute our own search; the planet‘s day is nearly forty hours, but it was twenty six hours into the cycle when the initial team was beamed down, and waiting the additional four hours will mean that we‘ll only have about six hours of true daylight during which to do our search.” He waited for Mr. Scott’s nod of agreement before continuing, “Would Mr. Chekov be of any help, Mr. Scott? He is well versed in transporter technology, and may be able to help.”  
  
Mr. Scott debated, clearly unsure if he was willing to sacrifice his pride as an engineer or not. The urge to help the Captain won out before a second had passed, however, and Mr. Scott agreed to accept the help of the young navigator.  
  
Spock put a hand to his comm, summoning Ensign Chekov who came to the transporter room at a run. “What do you need me for?” the young man asked, face flushed and curls asked as he darted into the transporter room minutes later. Mr. Scott immediately grabbed his arm, tugging him further into the room and discussing the problem without so much as a hello.  
  
Spock left without saying goodbyes, as it would be pointless, seeing as they had already bent down over the console, plucking at a few of the wires in an effort to find the root of the problem.  
  
He left and made his way to the Head of Security, first confirming the fact that the Captain’s signal had been found before he was able to discuss what he’d come to the office for. He informed the man that he would be beaming a security team down, to be accompanied by himself and several other that were not yet confirmed in four hours time if Mr. Scott was unable to successfully lock on the Captain’s signal and beam him back. Another half hour of his time was spent clearing the members who would go down to the planet, ensuring that they knew the risks of the mission. Thanks to Sulu’s earlier decision, they were already briefed as to the situation, but Spock reiterated the danger of the assignment to make it clear that it was a volunteer-only mission, and that no grudge would be held against those who did not feel they could do their duties. He was met with stoic looks from all parties and assurances that they would do their duties no matter the circumstances, and that they would do whatever was necessary to retrieve the Captain.  
  
From the Head of Security’s office, Spock returned to the bridge, dealing with yet more of the reports and authorizations that were needed to keep the ship running. While he did so, he checked in to see if Uhura had managed to capture any messages being sent to or from the planet or within the planets atmosphere, and tried his best to prevent his disappointment at the news that neither she nor any of the other communications officers had picked up a single one from showing on his face. He spoke to Sulu about joining the landing party they were planning, and fielded several questions about the scanners from the science labs, though he didn‘t have the time to head down to the labs and investigate the issues himself.  
  
And through it all, Spock lived in fear of the moment that Mr. Scott would contact him with the information that the Captain’s signal had been lost in a decidedly permanent sense.  
  
His Captain, James Kirk, who had managed to save them all even when Spock had done his best to undermine him, done his best to see Kirk fail because he was unworthy- as if Spock had the right to make that distinction. Kirk, who laughed and smiled and showed his desire for Spock’s companionship in a way that no one else had before, not even Nyota. Kirk, who got under Spock’s skin in ways he couldn’t even begin to articulate, begin to understand. The man who had become unbearably close to the shield-mates of old pre-Reformation Vulcan, who gave as much joy as he could to those around him, who bore whatever crosses necessary to save his people, his friends, his family. The man who made them into more than what they thought they could be by sheer virtue of the fact that he believed it with an intensity that was astonishing, breathtaking.  
  
Spock was not given to prayer. He had no belief in a higher power- he viewed it as strictly illogical and fanciful.  
  
Yet, for the first time since his mother died, Spock found the attraction in it.   
  


~*~

Doctor McCoy shook his head, and the scowl on his face was more pronounced than ever thanks to his displeasure. “If we interrupt the signal cascade, what’s that going to do? It would be the same as if the izirin never bound itself to the receptor in the first place. We’d prevent the telepathic shielding, leave a dangerous protein simply floating around in his system, _and_ we still wouldn’t be able to stop the side effects. We can’t do that, and we can’t use RNAi either, so don’t even think about it, because it wouldn’t change anything except you wouldn’t get enough izirin produced to do its job in the first place.”

“So what do you suggest?” Doctor M’Benga answered shortly, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the lab table. “Treat the symptoms as they come up? That’s hardly practical, and you know it!”

Doctor McCoy blew a frustrated breath out his nose and paced back and forth in his lab, running his hand through his hair several time. “If we did something, we’d have to interrupt the secondary, tertiary and quaternary cascades- not the cascade that signals the production of izirin, but the signals that the izirin itself as sending out, which are usually tailor made to the protein and involve a lot of similar proteins. It’s not like we can inhibit his kinases to prevent the phosphorylation from being passed down the line- their systems have nearly as many types as kinases as we do, and we’d first have to figure out exactly what kinases are involved in the pathway, what areas are conserved between the kinases in his system and find out a way to block just that one. And it wouldn’t exactly be helpful if the same kinases are involved in more than one pathway because then we’re blocking necessary pathways independent of the one that we‘re working on. We’d have to search down the pathway by hand to find something that is izirin dependent, and assuming we can find that, only then we can block the signals that result in the increased heart rate, breathing rate and sky high brain activity.” McCoy’s shoulder sagged as he articulated the trouble.

“Is it possible to do something short term?” Sarek asked.

M’Benga, Chapel and McCoy all nodded, but it was Chapel who spoke, tapping a finger against the lab bench as she explained, “There’s about a million things that you can do short term to control at least the first two. There are several hormones and special sedatives that effect the physiological responses only, which can be used to keep the heart rate and breathing rate down. They’re dangerous, however, because some of the sedatives are addictive and an influx of too many foreign proteins, such as the hormones, usually result in the body attacking the invaders. Assuming that the proteins are permitted to do their job, which usually takes another injection to lower the immune system, then you’ve still got the proteins sending mixed signals and generally upsetting the cell signaling process, as well as interfering with the natural proteins. In some cases, there have even been reports of the body mutating to accept those substitute hormones as the norm, which would be another whole problem. That’s more on the biological side for short term. The only thing short term option that’s not biological would be nanites. If you coat the nanites in certain antigens to make sure that they’re recognized by the immune system, at least short term, then you can have them regulate heart rate by controlling the electrical impulses of the heart itself, since they themselves carry electricity. They are also able to help with breathing, because they can aid with oxygen binding on the cupric-bound molecules that you use for air transport, and with plenty of air, the signal to increase breathing rate is never triggered. Unfortunately, there’s only so long that can last either, since the antigens don’t bind very well to the nanotechnology and usually fall off within three hours or so, at which point the immune system recognizes the invader and begins the attack; the patient would need dialysis to remove the nanites.”

Sarek inclined his head to indicate his understanding. “Are those our only two choices?”

M’Benga nodded. “There’s some experimental techniques out there, like increasing the signaling of various relaxant proteins, or into tricking the brain to believe that it’s not sensing certain breathing and heart needs, but none of it’s broken new ground- they all have their own drawbacks and dangers. Nurse Chapel listed the best choices of the lot, and the stuff that’s commonly used short term, anything between a couple of hours and about a day. If we don’t want to go short term, then we have to deal with the pathway directly, and study the protein-protein interactions and the genes that are involved. To stop the effects of izirin, we have to know exactly how it triggers the responses it has, and how they manage to effect the pulmonary and cardiovascular systems, as well as the neurology of the brain. Only then can we figure out a way to stop it, and Doctor McCoy is right- we’d have to track down a protein or response that is izirin specific. Otherwise, if we inhibit a general protein that used in several places, we’ll be shutting down other pathways as well, which could be just as dangerous as having the izirin pathway run freely through your son’s body.”

“Hence the problem,” McCoy summed up.

“Though that does give us a place to start,” Chapel assured Sarek. “We’d have to start by running an in vivo GST pulldown assay when izirin is being produced to figure out the associate proteins before confirming them in vitro to see their interactions and making sure that we didn‘t accidentally isolate a protein aggregate, then run those proteins through the Vulcan and Human databases for matches. If there’s something within the pulldown assay that doesn’t match within a certain percentile, we would then have to run an SDS-PAGE against a lysed cell with certain antibody markers to see if there are any matches. If the answer to both are no, we can be reasonably sure that it’s an izirin dependent protein production. Then we’d have to do a second GST pulldown for the new protein, and so on. It’s a rather complicated process and time consuming, but not impossible.”

“Except that we have to get Jim back!” McCoy snarled, looking supremely irritated. “We don’t have time to figure that all out- the test alone would take days, and we’d have to find a way to induce the izirin production several times to assure ourselves of the results. And only then, once we understood that secondary and tertiary pathway could we be able to design a drug that could prevent the effects even when izirin is produced.”

There was silence for a moment when all that could be heard was McCoy’s heavy breathing. M’Benga and Chapel both looked away from the man, a slight flush creeping over both their faces. Sarek’s gaze remained steady, meeting McCoy’s eyes without flinching.

“And the brain activity? Can that be reduced?” Sarek said finally, breaking eye contact with McCoy in order to study the three of them intently.

McCoy shook his head, sounding weary, and rubbed at his face. “Well, there are different ways to inhibit brain activity but none of them would be of any good. Firstly, it would involve a neurotoxin of some sort, which is never something you want to voluntarily expose yourself to, because there are long term and often dangerous side effects, side effects that make death seem like a more pleasant option. Even assuming we stuck to neurosedatives, we’d then have the issue of the synapse function. The body’s reaction would be slow at best, and the brain would have trouble processing signals, memories and the like until the sedative was flushed from the system.”

Sarek didn’t frown, but there was something about the twitch of his eyebrows that was decidedly negative. “Vulcans are able to exert a considerable amount of control over their brain activity; it is a part of our meditation practices, to exert control over certain areas of our brain. Is there a reason that this would not work?”

McCoy gestured to M’Benga to answer. The man thought for a moment and then said, “Theoretically, if the Vulcan was exerting a conscious and constant control and shielding of brain activity then, yes, theoretically they could prevent their brain activity from going to dangerously high levels. They would have to be in a semi-meditative state to do it, but it wouldn’t impair his physiology in terms of reaction time or the like. I believe it could be done, but I wouldn‘t recommend it long term, however, because that level of minute concentration would be difficult even for a Vulcan. In addition, if something happens that distracts them from the partial meditative state, then the brain activity could surge without their control and they‘d be unable to stop it. I have to admit though, that‘s probably the best option since as long as the Vulcan maintains sufficient concentration, it would have little or no side effects long term, unlike any of the drugs that are used. Even so, I wouldn‘t recommend it without supervision or extended experience in holding such a meditative state.”

In the silence that fell after M’Benga’s pronouncement, Nurse Chapel’s stomach growled. She turned scarlet, half turning in an attempt to hide her blush.

McCoy just chuckled, clapping her on the shoulder. “I think you’re right. I think we all need to take a break, get out of this lab, see if we can get a different perspective on this problem that will let us think more short term, because we’ll need a telepath going down there, and that means we’ve got to find a way to keep Spock from dying on the planet before he’s able to find Jim. Besides, we haven’t eaten since breakfast this morning, and it’s nearly 17:00. We could all use a bite to eat.”

Sarek surprised them all by saying in his usual grave tone, “I agree. I did not have the opportunity to partake of nourishment since this morning either, and I feel that with an increase in blood sugar I may function better.”

Despite his best efforts, McCoy couldn’t help but let go of the tension as he laughed at the Ambassador’s comment, shaking his head in amusement. He was beginning to see what Jim meant by the Vulcans- some of them, at any rate- having a deadpan sense of humor. “Well, you know that food is necessary if even a Vulcan says that he’d hungry,” McCoy said in a voice without rancor. “Come on, we’ll grab a brief dinner together before we continue our work.”

Nurse Chapel’s stomach growled again, and it was echoed by McCoy’s. Nurse Chapel flushed again, though not as darkly as before. “After you?” she managed to say in a relatively cheerful voice, gesturing at the door.

They filed out of the small lab with no ceremony, McCoy closing up behind them before they left en masse to the mess hall. It was a little too early for most of alpha shift to be off, but not quite late enough that most of beta were grabbing their breakfasts, so the four had most of the dining hall to themselves, and they selected a table that was fairly secluded, away from the few people who were present. A couple of them started at Sarek’s imposing presence, especially when they realized that he was planning on sitting with Doctor McCoy, whose inability to deal with Spock without getting upset was well known.

Each of them got their meals without so much as sparing a glance for the open mouths around them, as if they’d done this a thousand times before. “No talking about the research,” McCoy commanded, and though it was only common sense, considering that anyone could overhear what they were saying, the others could tell that it cost him something, that he wanted nothing more than to ignore his bodily needs and work until Jim was returned to them safe and sound. It was only the others present that stopped him from doing so, because he would never ignore their needs, and thus he in turn was forced to take a break from his work.

Nevertheless, the meal was indeed brief, staying almost entirely on neutral topics for the half hour or so during which they ate, for each was as eager as the others to return to their work. They were returning their dishes when McCoy was commed.

“McCoy here,” he barked, pausing for a moment and tapping the earpiece. “What happened?”

It was Spock’s cool voice that sounded over the comm, and McCoy straightened. “Doctor McCoy. I request a meeting with you in five minutes. I am headed down to Medical Bay.”

“I’ll be there in five as well- I was just finishing up dinner.”

“Very well.”

McCoy turned his attention to the others and said aloud, “Spock’s going to be meeting us down there. You are welcome to keep working, see if you can get any other ideas while I speak with him. I don’t think it’ll take too long.”

“Did my son tell you what he wished to speak with you about?” Sarek inquired.

“No, but I’ll bet whatever amount you want that he’s coming down to see if we’ve come up with some sort of miracle cure that is going to let him function like normal on that damned planet. As if such things can be done in an hour’s time, or as if our answers are simply appearing from the air without any work on our parts,” McCoy muttered, disgruntled.

In the interest of diplomacy, all three of his companions elected to hold their tongue, so that they wouldn’t get involved.

McCoy set a brisk pace as they returned to the infirmary, joining Spock just outside the doors. “What do you need?” McCoy asked, crossing his hands over his chest in a rather belligerent fashion.

Spock’s eyes flickered to his father, Doctor M’Benga and Nurse Chapel and then returned to McCoy. “If I might speak to you privately?”

McCoy rolled his eyes, half turning to face the others. “Sure. You guys go back to the lab and keep working while I get this sorted out.” The words made Spock stiffen, but he didn’t voice any complaints as the trio took their leave without so much as a backward glance, unwilling to get involved. “Alright, what do you want?” Spock stiffened even further, and McCoy felt a brief flash of guilt that he brushed away.

“If we may?” Spock said instead, indicating an empty corner of the room where they could speak privately, since neither of them were comfortable using McCoy’s office if the others were going to be in the lab right next door.

While Spock continued to stand, McCoy perched on the biobed, eyeing Spock’s tight features. McCoy was about to speak, to ask once more what it was that Spock wanted, exactly, when the half-Vulcan spoke. “If Mr. Scott is unable to lock on Captain Kirk’s signal in another hour’s time, we must go down to the planet and investigate things for ourselves, as we must take advantage of the remaining daylight if we are to search by hand. I’ve already authorized a security detail, as well as Mr. Sulu and myself, to go down. However, before I can beam down I must be secure in my knowledge that I will not have another…reaction.” McCoy could tell how much Spock loathed having to make the admission, loathed have to share a failing like this, and McCoy softened. Spock was truly worried about the Captain, for all he’d deny it, and McCoy knew that Spock had formed a friendship with Jim against all odds. McCoy couldn’t understand it, didn’t know why Jim had been so lenient about what Spock had done. Sure, Jim was no innocent in the situation either, but McCoy couldn’t help but feel, in some small sense, that Jim wouldn’t have had to go to the lengths that he had if Spock hadn’t pushed him there in the first place.

Now, however, they were beginning to work together so seamlessly that McCoy almost didn’t recognize them sometimes, and could only admit that they tempered each other in a way that was completely unique, that was something more than friendship, something different from brotherhood. McCoy searched Spock’s face for some sort of clue to the answer, but Spock was as stoic as always, even if his expression was tighter than McCoy had ever seen it.

McCoy sighed heavily, shifting his weight on the biobed and running his hand through his hair. “Look…Spock…” He tried to find the best way to phrase it, and then said gently, “Look, I’m a good doctor, a good researcher, but even I can’t make a miracle drug in a day. It’s simply not possible. I mean, I’d have to figure out izirin dependant response and where they fit into the pathways and see how they change your physiological responses…” McCoy trailed off again, hating the way Spock seemed even more closed off. “There are some short term options, however.” He continue in an effort to take away the subtle pained look that had been cast over Spock’s features, and wondered briefly when he‘d become such a softie when it came to the half-Vulcan.

Something cautious and rather hopeful entered his expression, and McCoy was privately pleased that he’d managed to catch it. Of course, it could also be due to the fact that Spock was distraught enough over Jim’s kidnapping to have those emotions slip in the first place, but McCoy preferred to think of it as him better understanding the half-Vulcan.

“And they are?” Spock asked in a guarded tone.

“Nanites would be the best option for your pulmonary and cardiovascular system, since we can use them to control the electrical pulses and to help the rate at which you bind oxygen, preventing both your heart and your lungs from going into overdrive. If we did that, however, the nanites would only last about three hours or so, maybe four if you were lucky, before you’d have to undergo dialysis to remove them from your body before your immune system attacked them. As for keeping your brain activity down…” McCoy hated to be the bringer of bad news, because as a doctor he was supposed to fix things, not make them worse. “Doctor M’Benga suggested a semi-meditative state. He says that a Vulcan in that state would be able to exert enough control over his brain activity as to prevent it from rising to dangerous levels while simultaneously being able to fully function. You‘d essentially be shielding yourself from reacting.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, as though he already suspected that Doctor McCoy had a reason to dislike that solution. McCoy’s face darkened, but his voice remained steady and sure as he continued, “I don’t trust it for several reasons. Firstly, you’d have to hold that meditative state constantly, and I have no records to show firstly if you are able to enter into such a state to begin with and secondly, I have no way to know how long you would be able to hold it. In addition, even assuming you were able to enter into the state in the first place, if something happened that made you lose your hold on your shielding, you wouldn’t be able to bring it back under control until you meditated once more, and on a hostile planet, that is neither the time or the place to spend time with your legs crossed chanting ‘om’.” Spock looked about to say something, but McCoy kept speaking, preventing Spock from getting a single word out. “Frankly, not only do I not trust the fact that the shielding will work in the first place, but I’m not entirely convinced that your health is good enough for you to return to the planet. If any of your symptoms had been left untreated, or had continued to rise before I had been able to treat you, you would have died. There is no question about it, no could have. You _would_ have died, and there wouldn’t have been a damn thing that I could have done about it.”

McCoy paused to let the enormity of his statement sink in. “Now, you’re not a fool, Spock, and neither am I. I know what your next argument is going to be. If we’ve got telepaths down on that planet that have kidnapped Jim, we need a telepath to go down to that planet. Just because I know that doesn’t mean I have to like it. If at all possible, if there was anyone else on the crew that could be sent down to communicate with these people-”

“I am the only telepath on board this ship at the moment,” Spock interrupted, and this time McCoy let him, falling silent in the face of the truth. At the moment, Spock was indeed their only option.

“If that is the case, I seem to be under the mistaken impression that as a Vulcan, I too share in Spock’s psionic abilities,” a deep voice rumbled from behind the pair of them.

McCoy jumped, nearly flinging himself off the biobed in his surprise at Sarek’s entrance. Spock barely twitched, turning to face his father smoothly. Spock’s voice and face were completely expressionless as he said shortly, “You are not a member of Starfleet, father. You are a civilian who lacks the training in how to handle dangerous situations, and who is unprepared for what may happen down on that planet. As Ambassador, you are critical to Earth-Vulcan relations, and you represent the cultural heritage of Vulcan and cannot be replaced in either situation. You will therefore remain aboard this ship until we have safely reached Earth.”

“I am more trained than you may believe,” Sarek answered with quiet dignity. “I have mastered the _suss mahn, kal-im-tar_ and _demvar_ styles of Vulcan martial arts and have been practicing them at the level of mastery for nearly fifty years. I have survived, by my own wits, four assassination attempts in response to my marriage to your mother. You are correct in saying that I am not a member of Starfleet, but I am a civilian in a technical sense only and am well versed in how to react to dangerous and unknown situations. You are also incorrect in stating that I am critical to Earth-Vulcan relations. I have been serving in that role for the majority of my life, that is true, but I am not a necessary element. There are others on New Vulcan that would be able to replace me, and who I believe are suited to the ambassadorial role though they themselves may not see it. As for your third point, this is less easy to contest. It is true that my knowledge of Vulcan heritage and culture would mean that my loss would negatively impact our ability to capture the essence of what we once took for granted. Nevertheless, I have my own point to make. Captain James Kirk did what he could to save Vulcan, as unorthodox as his methods may have been. That is something that Vulcan may one day find a way to repay. Captain Kirk also did what he had to in order to save my son, to give him what he needed, not just what he wanted, though once more it was not always in the way, perhaps, that I would have preferred. Nevertheless, I have found that things, as your mother once said, have ‘worked out for the best’. That is something that I wish to honor personally, and if this situation gives me the opportunity to help save his life, I would be remiss in my duty if I allowed such a chance to pass.”

Without so much as pausing to draw a breath, Sarek directed his attention to McCoy. “Spock and I share a familial bond, father to son. As such, we may work together in such a way that should his shield falter, I can bolster it, as he would be able to do the same for me as long as we are within fifty yards of each other. This would decrease the chances of our mental shields falling to 0.00034 percent. We would enter the meditative state together; as I have done similar types of shielding before, I am confident in my ability to do so now. Therefore, I would be able to help Spock should he find himself unaccustomed to shielding himself in this manner. However, I too would need to be injected with nanites to stave off any reaction to the izirin, as even I would not be able to last longer than an hour without suffering from negative effects.”

Silence reigned.

Sarek’s argument was eloquent, commanding without being overbearing, designed to evoke the emotions in his listeners that would most help his cause despite the fact that he professed to be able to control his absolutely.

McCoy saw how and why Sarek had spent so many years as Ambassador, how he‘d managed to survive years of the dangerous business that was politics.

Spock simply saw his father in a completely new light.

“If you are planning to beam down to the planet in forty five minutes so as to give us ample time to investigate the planet for signs of Captain Kirk,” Sarek informed the pair, “then it would be best if we began the mediation process immediately, so as to fully shield our minds before we are beamed down to the planet.” McCoy had to give him credit there; by simply assuming that they would agree with him, it made it that much harder to find the opportunity to disagree instead of simply being swept along by the force of Sarek’s convictions.

Spock shook his head, saying, “I cannot risk your life like that, Father. Starfleet-”

“Yes, please tell Starfleet. I would be very interested in seeing what sort of response they would have, when they have no desire to endanger Earth-Vulcan relations, especially because at the moment, we have the sympathies of the entire Federation. Furthermore, considering that I would be doing it in an effort to save the man who killed Nero, thus successfully enacting his revenge both for what was done to Vulcan, as well as what was done to his father, I doubt I would get as much as, I believe the saying goes, ‘a slap on the wrist’ for my actions.” Sarek raised an eyebrow, daring Spock to contradict him.

“Sometimes,” McCoy interjected as carefully as he could, “it is better to bend before you break.”

Spock closed his eyes, and the dilemma he was going through was nearly tangible. “Father, I find that you are being unfairly persuasive,” Spock finally admitted. “Nevertheless, I must ask that you obey certain rules if you are to come down to the planet with us. The rules will be for your own protection, as you cannot be exposed to any more danger than absolutely necessary.”

Sarek acquiesced to the demand with good grace, in McCoy’s opinion, accepting his son’s words without contest.

“Alright then,” McCoy said as he stepped between the two, drawing both sets of dark eyes to his, and commanding their attention temporarily. “Be back here in forty five minutes so I can inject you with the nanites before you are beamed down. If I find that you so much as breathed in the transporter room without first coming to see me, I will inject you will so many hyposprays that you will blow away in a gentle breeze. Am I clear?”

Both of them looked at him with the same lofty disdain at the doctor’s exuberance. “You are indeed clear, though I find that your threats are perhaps more emphatic than they need to be.”

McCoy snorted, ignoring Spock’s comment. “Secondly, if you’re going down to the planet, you’re taking a medic with you. This is not negotiable,” McCoy hurried to say as Spock opened his mouth. “I’ll be sending Nurse Chapel down there with you, assuming she agrees to take on the mission. You know perfectly well that they only person to score higher than her with a phaser was the Head of Security. You won’t find a better shot than her, and she’ll be able to treat Jim on site if he needs it. And if not her, then somebody else. I‘m not letting you go down there without someone to help you out that can also keep Jim from dying on you.” It was hard for him to say the last bit, to admit that he wasn’t the one best suited for the mission despite the fact that it was his dearest friend that was in danger.

Spock nodded. “Very well.”

McCoy flapped a hand. “Well, off with you both.” He met both of their gazes. “But before you go, keep one thing in mind. I’m telling you right now, I’ll have to trust in good faith that the pair of you raised your shields and are able to hold them in place, and therefore won‘t suddenly collapse when you‘re defenseless down on the planet. I have no way to prove to disprove your ability to control your mind in that particular fashion. If you undermine that trust, you won’t like what happens.” McCoy’s voice ended on a frosty note, cool enough to send a frisson of cold to the father and son, making their hair stand on end.

“We will do no such thing,” Spock assured the doctor, willing him to see that this mission’s success was as critical to him as it was for McCoy. The man searched Spock’s face, visibly relaxing at whatever it was he found there.

“Alright, now get out of my medical bay and do your Vulcan voodoo,” McCoy commanded, standing up. “I’ve got to get your nanites ready.”

McCoy was just finishing up the second serum of nanites when Spock and Sarek returned to Med Bay. He studied them carefully as they entered the main area of Medical, looking for even the slightest hint of the change. He found what he was looking for- or rather, he hoped that he had. There was a smoothness, a certain dreaminess to both Spock and Sarek’s movements that hadn’t existed previously. Usually both moved with an efficiency that was off-putting until you got used to it. Now it was more of a progression, with each movement blending seamlessly into the next one. They also had a certain awareness of each other that they’d lacked in earlier interactions; their movements echoed each other. No, McCoy realized, echoed wasn’t the right word to use. Instead, the complemented each other in their motions now, moving in such a way that they automatically compensated for how the other moved their body.

If McCoy was going to be honest, the entire affair gave him the chills.

He hid his discomfort, however, and waved them over and told them to sit on a pair of biobeds. Without ceremony, he loaded the hyposprays with their nanites and injected them both, waiting the requisite ten minutes before he took readings with his tricorder to ensure that the nanites had been programmed correctly and had in fact made their way to the cardiovascular and pulmonary systems and were doing their job. When he’d completed every possible test he could think of, McCoy took a step back and sighed. “Now, remember, you’ve only got about three hours before you’ve got to get back up here so that you can undergo dialysis. You might be able to get more time than that if you’re careful, but the minute you think you might be reacting, even if the three hours isn’t up yet, get your asses back here. Extensive nanite exposure can lead to full blown Lupus, or whatever the equivalent is for Vulcans, which can get extremely nasty and lead to all sorts of long term complications.”

Both of them stood, still eerily in synch with each other, and headed for the door without so much as another word.

“Spock!” McCoy called, rushing forward suddenly. He grabbed the half-Vulcan’s arm and swung him toward himself.

“Be careful, Spock, Sarek. And good luck. And…bring back Jim safe and sound.”

Spock locked his eyes on McCoy’s face, and there was an iron will shimmering in those dark depths. “Believe me, Doctor. I intend to.”


	9. For Those Days We Felt Like a Mistake

Dr. Jameson looked at them all once they’d finished telling their story, simply stared, aghast at the events that had led up to this point. “Impossible,” he murmured, hands clenching the edge of the kitchen table hard enough that the wood groaned beneath his grip. “I knew Kodos was not as virtuous as one might have hoped for in a governor, but this is beyond compare! This is madness in its worst form, sheer insanity!”  
  
“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Ebenezer snapped, sitting up straighter. “Do you believe us?”  
  
Dr. Jameson met his eyes squarely. “You come bearing no proof of what you say. What you _can_ offer as evidence would only be Jimmy’s word against that of Kodos, which is hardly enough to get him removed from office, or even enough to make others investigate the situation more thoroughly. You have insinuations and suspicions only, and you ask me if I am confident in my conclusion, if I believe you entirely? Hardly. However, it explains too many coincidences, confirms too many doubts that all of us have held at one point or another over the past few weeks- months, even. We can neither risk sharing this news nor risk keeping it under wraps, because both are equally dangerous and are equally likely to result in our deaths.”  
  
“So what, then?” Gretchen demanded tetchily. “What would you have us do?”  
  
“I would have you,” Dr. Jameson began irritably, “give me more than a moment’s time in order to come to terms with the information that you have just dropped in my lap. I would have you give me the chance to think through this situation in peace. I have no doubt that you believe this, at the very least, but I must weigh my view of the situation against yours before I can tell you what I plan to do.” He softened a little, taking in their exhausted and dirty faces. “While I deliberate, however, the least I can do is give you a place to rest, at least temporarily. Come with me. I’ll set up some pillows and blankets that you can use to catch a couple of hours of sleep before you all fall over. Whatever else, no matter what, you will be safe in my home. When you get up, I’ll see what I can do about getting you some food and water, alright?”  
  
There was a general grumbling assent from them all, for though they weren’t thrilled about the fact that Dr. Jameson hadn’t believed them immediately, they were more than ready to grab a few hours of sleep after their journey and more than willing to give him some time to think, if it meant that he would eventually believe them. “Thank you,” they all chimed, some more belatedly than others when Dr. Jameson had created a makeshift bed on the floor for them, complete with a foam pad to help them get more comfortable on the floor of his basement.  
  
“It’s not a problem,” he said, looking at them all in turn. Jimmy thought it was nice of him to make sure that they each understood that this was a favor free of obligation, that he would have done it no matter the circumstances. It was very reassuring.  
  
He ended up be squashed between Ianto and Savik, both of whom curled close against him, making him feel uncomfortably warm under the covers. He kicked them off, reveling in the cooler air. He twisted from side to side, trying to get more comfortable, but Ianto and Savik shifted in response to his movements, preventing him from getting truly comfortable.  
  
He sat up a little, looking around, just then noticing that everyone else had long since fallen asleep, unable to stay awake when offered a warm and relatively safe place to sleep. Jimmy didn’t understand how they’d managed to do so with such speed; he couldn’t help but worry, wondering if Dr. Jameson would believe them or not. So much was riding on his decision that Jimmy couldn’t find a way to make his mind relax.  
  
Finally, he slipped out from between Ianto and Savik, who adjusted for the loss of heat, rolling towards each other and snoring a little louder. Jimmy rolled his eyes at them, envious of their ability to ignore everything around them and rest. Instead, he crept up the stairs, hoping to get a glass of water.  
  
Dr. Jameson was sitting at the kitchen table still, staring blankly at the tea cup sitting in front of him. Occasionally he lifted it up as though to drink and then set it back down, swirling the liquid contents idly. He jumped as Jimmy opened the door. “You scared me!” Dr. Jameson exclaimed, and then immediately quieted his voice so as not to disturb the others. “Is there something that I can do for you?”  
  
A thousand possible answers leapt to Jimmy’s tongue, but he bit back all of them. Pressing his case probably wouldn’t win him any favors from the man. “Just a glass of water,” Jimmy said instead, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.  
  
Dr. Jameson nodded absently, standing up and rummaging through the cupboards before filling a clear glass with water from the sink. “Ice?” he asked. Jimmy nodded, and Dr. Jameson plunked a few cubes in and set it before the younger male. “Here.”  
  
“Thanks.” Jimmy sipped at it quietly, letting it ease his parched throat. He didn’t speak with Dr. Jameson, and the doctor didn’t acknowledge Jimmy’s presence any further, instead toying with the cup in front of him again.  
  
Jimmy, though disinclined to break the silence to begin with, began to feel awkward simply sitting in the kitchen with Dr. Jameson, unsure as to what he was supposed to do, unsure whether to hold his silence or not.  
  
Dr. Jameson made the decision for him. “Jimmy…” he started, then stopped, as though unsure as to what he should say next.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Can you…I’ll understand if you can’t, or if you don’t want to, but…could you tell me how Abby died? She was…she was a very good friend of mine, and she…she just did a lot of things for me that gave me opportunities that I wouldn‘t have had otherwise. I still can‘t believe she‘d dead. If what you all say is true, if she didn‘t die in the fire like Kodos said, what happened? Please, Jimmy. I‘d like to know.” Dr. Jameson’s eyes were earnest.  
  
Jimmy couldn’t formulate a response to Dr. Jameson’s question for several long minutes. He shied away from dredging up the memories, but the very fact that it had been mentioned meant that each time Jimmy closed his eyes, he could see the entire scene as though he was still there in the woods looking down at Abby’s body. “I…” his voice failed, and he had to clear his throat and take another sip of water before he managed enough strength to force out the words. “I don’t know. I can try to tell you,” he faltered for a moment, “what…what happened, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to tell it all.”  
  
Dr. Jameson shook his head, trying to alleviate Jimmy’s fears without words. “No, Jimmy, anything you can give me, anything at all will be more than what I’ve already got. I would be forever in your debt. Please, Jimmy.”  
  
Jimmy swallowed, then began in short, clipped tones, trying to convey the story in as few and as simple words as possible, “Memeki came to me a couple nights back and said that she’d forgotten a scroll that her dapi gave her in the house. She was afraid to go on her own, and she was afraid to ask anyone else, because they’re so much older than she is. She feels…small, sometimes. Childish. So she asked me if I would get it. I was tired. I didn’t want to…” Tears welled up in Jimmy’s eyes and he had to choke out the next couple of words, “but I went anyways, because I felt bad for her. I didn’t want anyone to see me, so I slipped out quietly. I thought if they saw me sneaking out so late at night that they would think I was up to mischief or something, and I didn’t want to break my promise to Memeki. So I slipped out, and I must have done a good job since no one saw me. Or no one raised an alarm, at least, not even the biometric scanners and stuff reacted. Anyways, I headed down to the program house and I heard…” Jimmy had to steady himself with more water, clenching the glass hard in his hands, hard enough that something crackled rather ominously. He took a deep breath and removed his hand from the glass. “I heard some phasers. I don’t know what I thought, but I knew whatever was happening wasn’t good. I ran down the hill. Abby saw me and ran up towards me. She was carrying Ianto, trying to get him out of there,” Jimmy’s eyes welled with tears again and he tried to scrub them away, shame and guilt that he had survived when Abby had not filling his heart and making a lump grow in his throat. “One of the guards saw was she was doing. A woman. She shot Abby. It was…it was…” Jimmy tried to find a way to describe it, but he failed, unable to make anything more than an inarticulate sound of rage and helplessness, the spray of blood from Abby’s wound as vivid as though it was being replayed right before his eyes. “Horrible,” Jimmy finally whispered. “But she managed to get to me and gave me Ianto. And then she died.”  
  
Jimmy blushed furiously as his story reached its end, feeling that his description was meager and paltry, barely worthy of notice after all that Abby had done. He couldn’t find it in him to dwell on it, however, to go over every detail. It made him want to fall apart at the seams. He sniffled, loud and long and pathetic. He didn’t care how it made him look, and he sniffled again.  
  
“Here,” Dr. Jameson said, and Jimmy looked up. The man was holding a tissue, and like Jimmy’s, Dr. Jameson’s face was pink and puffy from tears, his eyes bloodshot. Jimmy blew his nose as the man had requested, before wadding up the tissue and throwing it out.  
  
“Thanks,” Jimmy muttered, and he was surprised at how raspy his voice sounded.  
  
“No problem.”  
  
They sat in a prolonged silence for another ten minutes.  
  
“Yes.” Dr. Jameson finally whispered.  
  
“What?” Jimmy looked over at him, bewildered. “Yes to what?”  
  
“Yes, I believe you. Yes, I’m going to help you out. Yes, Kodos needs to be brought down, the murdering bastard!” Dr. Jameson finished his words without a shout, throwing his tea cup against the wall, fury in every line of his body for one terrible moment before it abruptly faded, his shoulders slumping. Jimmy saw a few tears slip down the man’s face and he looked away, unable to face Dr. Jameson’s raw pain as well as his own. Jimmy wished he could cover his ears as the doctor’s breathing became increasingly labored as he attempted to keep his tears down, for the sound made his heart ache ferociously. He wanted nothing more than to get up and leave the room, to shut the memory from his mind, to pretend it hadn’t existed in order to save his sanity.  
  
But he couldn’t do that.  
  
“So now what?” Jimmy asked when Dr. Jameson’s breathing had settled a little bit more.  
  
“Now we wait for your friends to wake up. When they do, we can begin planning in earnest, both to figure out what you all should do and how we should let the rest of Tarsus IV know what Kodos is planning.”  
  
“That’s it?” Jimmy said, a touch incredulously. “Do you really think that it will be as simple as that?”  
  
Dr. Jameson’s eyes were dark, and Jimmy shied away from looking to closely at what was in their depths. “No. It probably won’t.” Jimmy made an inquiring sound at that, but there was no response from Dr. Jameson.  
  
“So…” Jimmy said meaningfully, in hopes of being able to start a new conversation.  
  
“Yes?” Dr. Jameson asked, and the mild-mannered doctor was back. Jimmy blinked once at the change.  
  
“Ummm…” Jimmy cast about for something to say. “What time is it?”  
  
“Oh, um, just coming up on six. If your friends aren’t up in another four hours or so, I’ll have to wake them up so we can plan. I’ve got the later shift at the clinic today and I don’t have to be in until three this afternoon, so we’ve got some time to plan before I have to leave. You really ought to go catch what sleep you can, Jimmy,” Dr. Jameson said kindly, face softening. “You’ll feel better after you’ve gotten some rest. You’ll be able to concentrate, and that pesky burning feeling will go away.”  
  
Jimmy looked up at the doctor, his hands inches away from rubbing at his eyes. “I haven’t been able to sleep very much lately,” Jimmy muttered, shrugging his shoulders half-heartedly.  
  
Dr. Jameson’s face softened even further, and Jimmy quailed a little under the attention. He didn’t want to be seen as someone that needed taking care of. He’d done quite alright on his own, despite everything that was happening on Tarsus IV. He didn’t need some adult to feel bad for him and pity him. “I can give you something for that, you know. Something mild. It won’t make you stay asleep, but it’ll help you clear your mind until you can fall asleep on your own.”  
  
Jimmy wasn’t sure how to react to that. He wanted sleep, desperately, wanted to taste oblivion for even a couple of hours so that he would be able to think clearly again. Even more than that, he wanted to sleep for a couple of hours so that he could stop thinking, stop remembering everything that he’d seen, everything he’d heard.  
  
Everything he’d felt, like Abby’s blood on his cheek.  
  
His fingers itched to rub the memory away, to scrub the skin until there wasn’t the merest hint of what had happened etched on his skin.  
  
“Jimmy?” Dr. Jameson repeated, and from the worried tone in his voice, Jimmy knew it wasn’t the first time that his name had been called.  
  
“Sorry,” Jimmy said in a low voice. “I’m just…not. Not.”  
  
“I can imagine. You really ought to get some sleep Jimmy. You look tired. You’ve got bags under your eyes the size of Jupiter.”  
  
“I can imagine,” Jimmy retorted, which startled a laugh out of Dr. Jameson.  
  
“I’ll get you something,” Dr. Jameson promised, walking from the room. Jimmy could hear him rooting around in the other room, and the promise of a couple hours rest was enough to prevent him from refusing the doctor’s aid. “Here,” he said as he returned to the room, handing Jimmy a pair of small orange pills. “They’ll help you relax enough to drop off, but once you’re asleep, the rest you’ll get is all your own.”  
  
“Thanks.” Jimmy said, hating how grateful he sounded. He swallowed the pills with a sip of water.  
  
“Go downstairs and close your eyes. The pills will start working within ten minutes or so, alright?”  
  
“Yeah, thanks,” Jimmy said again. He stood, waved a hand and headed back down the steps. He had to shove Ianto and Savik apart, crawling in the space between them. As earlier, they immediately latched onto him, arms and legs flung haphazardly over Jimmy. Unlike before, when the touch served to make him uncomfortable, now it just made Jimmy feel warm and sleepy.  
  
His breathing evened out within moments.  
  
Some indeterminable time later, noise slowly drew him from his sleep, the subtle shifting of bodies and the quiet murmur of voices drawing him out of the best rest he’d had in several days. The burning in his eyes had receded, and his head felt much clearer now that he’d gotten some rest that wasn’t plagued by nightmares and ghosts of memories. He groaned softly as he awoke, feeling as though he could use several more hours of sleep to feel like himself again. His memories rushed back to him, however, and he pushed himself up, blinking owlishly in the too bright light.  
  
It took several blinks before his vision cleared and he could make out Ebenezer and Big J, as well as some of the others, moving around, pulling shirts and pants back on, running their hands through their hair in an effort to get it somewhat normal looking. Jimmy stood up, twisting his back from side to side in an effort to make it crack. It finally did, with a little snap, and Jimmy stretched his arms forward to let his back settle into place.  
  
“You’re up!” Big J exclaimed, walking over to where Jimmy was. “We were going to let you sleep.”  
  
Jimmy frowned, offended. “Why?” he demanded. “I can be of help! I was there when it all started-”  
  
Big J held up a hand, forestalling the rest of Jimmy‘s protest. “You’ve just looked tired,” he explained. “You’ve gotten the least sleep of all of us. Of course you were tired. We figured we’d let you rest while we could.” His face darkened. “And don’t make up some sort of nonsense about not needing it. I reckon you haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since you saw what Kodos did to Abby and the others. And you’ve have Ianto in your room, which couldn’t have been all that comfortable, since you were probably worried sick about him being found in there.” Big J shook his head ruefully. “Some geniuses we are. We didn’t even think that it might be a problem for you, even though it must have been hard…” Big J shook his head, this time more despondently. “It must have been hard. Sorry. Next time tell us- we’re here to help each other out. Right now, we’re all we’ve got.”  
  
The others who were awake chimed in their agreement, and Jimmy’s eyes went a little glassy. He coughed to cover it, not liking how they were all staring at him. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”  
  
Big J barked out a quick laugh that wasn’t particularly mirthful. “Of course not, kid, of course not.”  
  
Jimmy didn’t have anything to say to that, so he stood, cracking some of his joints idly as he waited for the grogginess to recede. Memeki was still asleep, as were Ianto and O’las, but everyone else was already awake and getting ready to head upstairs to meet with the doctor.  
  
“Should I wake them up?” Jimmy asked.  
  
“No. I think we should let them get all the rest they can. I bet we’ll end up having a late night tonight too, so it probably won’t be a bad thing if they get used to staying up a little later.”  
  
With that, they all tramped up the stairs, attempting and largely failing to keep quiet as they made their way up the steps. Jimmy peeked down to where the three were still sleeping, however, and they hadn’t so much as stirred. Those who were awake made their way to the kitchen table and either stood or sat around it, since the doctor only had five chairs. The doctor fed them what he could, mostly some bread that was going stale and some jam with some weak tea. No one complained about the fare, however, effusively thanking the doctor for his generosity instead.  
  
The doctor waved off the thanks. “It’s no more than what I should do, considering the circumstances,” he argued. “If you really want to thank me, help me figure a way to get the news out to everyone else on Tarsus IV. I won’t stand for genocide, not while I’m still here,” he declared, dark eyes snapping with repressed rage. “However, I’d prefer not to be killed either, at least not before I’m able to do everything I can to bring down Kodos.” He spat the name out as if it were a curse.  
  
“We can help you with that,” Gretchen volunteered, looking thoughtful. “The computers are linked across the entire planet, right? Between the eleven of us, there’s got to be at least someone who’s done some hacking.” Ebenezer, Roshaun and Jimmy volunteered their expertise before she’d even finished speaking, and Dr. Jameson laughed a little at the instantaneous response.   
  
Gretchen differed to their judgment, and Roshaun said thoughtfully, “We can probably create a false identity and send emails to every other person who uses the network, get the news out.” He shrugged a little demurely, and then said, “I’ve been hacking since I was eight for fun. There hasn’t been a system that I’ve tried that I haven’t been able to hack into.” Ebenezer professed a similar level of expertise. Jimmy hadn’t been doing it as long as they other two, but as Roshaun put it, one more set of eyes wouldn’t hurt, especially when they considered the amount of coding that they would be working with in order to create a false identity and hide their trail.  
  
“Assuming we manage to do all that, and we’ve actually got an ID for the network that can’t be connected back to any of us, would it be believable? I mean, will people actually believe us if we say what Kodos is doing, when we don’t have a name, don’t have a face, when no one knows who we are? Won’t everyone just think it’s a hoax, a way to terrify people? That’s certainly the tactic that Kodos will use as soon as he find out about it,” Yana mentioned, brow furrowing a little.  
  
“Probably,” Big J agreed. “So we’ll have to make our side of the argument look really good, first off, using what happened during the riots and to Abby and the others as examples. We should play off of what people already suspect. If we play off their fears, it should make it sound more reasonable, since all we‘d be doing for a lot of people is confirming what their deepest fears, and there‘s eight thousand or so of us and only one Kodos; at the very least, they can put him in jail to await trail. We should make that argument too, now that I mention it; if people see they aren‘t alone, they‘ll probably be more likely to act than if they were.”  
  
Roshaun rolled his eyes a little at how complicated the message was becoming. “Why don’t you all get working on the message while we hack into the system and get everything set up, alright? It‘ll go faster than if we debate about the message and _then_ spend several hours doing the real work.” Roshaun said a touch impatiently. Ebenezer tugged on his long blond hair, and the other boy yelped, pulling out of Ebenezer’s reach. He looked about to start a tirade, but Dr. Jameson took them over to his personal console, logging in so they would have access to the entire network, neatly stopping the spat before it ever gained ground.  
  
Jimmy kept half an ear on what was going on behind them, catching a phrase here and there about what they wanted to put in the message. Dr. Jameson was writing it on his PADD, the others crowded around him, trying to see over his shoulder, making minute adjustments to phrasing, to the words they used, to how they used what information to make the greatest impact. Jimmy knew it was important in an abstract sort of way, but he’d never viewed how you said something as being as important as actually doing what you said. Though, in this case, the words were the actions, and therefore it was probably better to take the appropriate care.  
  
He noted, rather dimly since he was considerably more concerned with making sure that everyone present on Tarsus IV was a part of the email list, that eventually the talk turned from how they were going to word their warning about Kodos to what everyone would do after the messages had been sent out.  
  
Dr. Jameson’s tone was apologetic as he said, “I’m sorry. I’d love to put you all up here, but firstly, they’re sure to put the messages together with the fact that you all left; before long, they’ll be walking from door to door and searching the entire house from attic to cellar if they have to. Secondly, I’d never be able to feed you all; I’m listed as being single, with no family to speak of on this planet, so I’m only getting enough food for me. And it is unreasonable to even attempt to spread one person’s meal across twelve. Your best bet would be to get out of the city, where it will be harder for Kodos and his guards to track you down. I can give you blankets and pillows to take with you, to help with the worst of the weather, but I’m not sure how much effect they’ll have, since winter’s coming. If need be, I’d even be willing to try and find a safe spot; I have a friend who is a geologist, and she knows the area pretty well. I can ask her discreetly, and she might be able to give us an area outside the city that would be comfortable and safe in the coming months, depending on how this entire situation pans out. Hopefully, Kodos will be removed from office and you‘ll have nothing more to fear from him. In the meantime, however, it‘s probably safest if you aren‘t around to be scapegoats for him.”  
  
Discussion turned officially at that point, delving more into the details of what they could possibly do. It was somewhat morbid, Jimmy found, to be listening in on a conversation that based its decisions solely on the likelihood that they would survive better or worse as a result. That old ache, equal parts agony and fury flared up again for the first time since he’d awoken, and he raged internally at Kodos, wishing the man had never been born, wishing that Jimmy could do to him what he’d done to others. He wanted to rub Kodos’s nose in the ashes of the program house, as if that would make him understand and repent for his actions.  
  
For the murders he’d had done in his name.  
  
Ebenezer gripped his arm suddenly, pulling him towards a relatively isolated corner of the room. The pain of it brought Jimmy back to the here and now. “What?” Jimmy snapped, wrenching his arm out of Ebenezer’s grasp and taking a wary step away from him.  
  
Ebenezer’s eyes were knowing. “You can’t dwell on it,” he warned in a low voice. “If you dwell on it, it starts to become about revenge, about getting the upper hand, about destroying Kodos from every possible perspective. And when that happens, well, sooner or later, you’re going to get caught, and get everyone with you killed. It has to be enough for now that you’ll fulfill Abby’s request that you take care of Ianto. If you can’t promise me that, then you’ve got no place in making the decisions, because your obsession with Kodos will skew everything you say, because all your decisions will be about making Kodos pay, not making sure that we all survive this clusterfuck until Starfleet gets here.” Ebenezer must have seen protest in Jimmy’s eyes, because the older boy grabbed his chin. “If I think for a single instant you are going to endanger us all because of some stupid revenge scheme, make no mistake, boy, I will hogtie you and drop you off a cliff first. It would be a more merciful ending than whatever Kodos would have planned.”  
  
Jimmy looked away, abashed, because he knew Ebenezer was right. The older boy sighed and ruffled Jimmy’s sun-streaked locks. “Look,” he said, a little more gruffly. “I don’t blame you. What I wouldn’t give to tear the bastard’s face off with my own hands- but I can’t. If you feel you’re having trouble keeping focus, talk to one of us. We’ll all say the same thing- that we want to kill him, but know we can’t. It’s the school of hard knocks, boy, sink or swim. But when Starfleet gets here,” Ebenezer’s smile was predatory, the incisors looking especially sharp, “well, that’s when Kodos will go to trial. He will be crucified for what he’s done so far, and we will be the people who kept it from getting even worse. Kodos has already signed his own death warrant, boy, don’t you worry about that. We just got to last long enough to bring out evidence against him, to help condemn him, alright? Think of that as your revenge- live long enough that when Starfleet gets here, you’ll be able to see the asshole punished as he should be.”  
  
“You‘re right. Thanks,” Jimmy said in a quiet voice. He felt better, knowing that everyone was struggling as he was, fighting as he was to keep their disgust, their anger, their pain from overwhelming them.  
  
Ebenezer clapped him on the shoulder with enough force that he was nearly knocked over. “No problem, kid,” he said gruffly, looking away with a slight flush rising in his cheeks. “Someone had to say it.”  
  
“Are you two just going to stand there or are you actually going to be of a help?!” Roshaun shouted sarcastically over his shoulder, frown marring his otherwise smooth features. “You’re deadweight right now! Can one of you reformat the message from Dr. Jameson’s PADD and get the file uploaded so I can send it? I may be incredible at what I do, but I’ve only got two hands, and I’m a little busy using both of them at the moment.” To accentuate his complaint, a steady staccato of keys accompanied his every word.  
  
“Back to work, it looks like,” Ebenezer groaned, cracking his neck. “Keep what I said in mind, boy. Just give a shout if you need a hand, alright? We‘ve gotta stick together.”  
  
Jimmy smiled briefly, but the expression still felt too forced, like his face would crack if he held the expression for too long. He didn’t give Ebenezer any other confirmation, instead heading back to upload the message from the PADD to the console, encrypting it so that it wouldn’t be traceable. Ebenezer double checked his work, fixing the occasional algorithm. It was about that time that Roshaun finished his work on the console, and he looked almost strange without his hands flying across the board as he hacked into the network.  
  
“I’ve got the ID set up,” Roshaun announced as he fiddled with a few settings. “I figured that the best ‘name’ to put it under would be A Concerned Citizen. After all, that’s exactly what we are, and it doesn’t give away any clues. I’ve made it so that it’s accessible from any console or PADD that we choose to use, and it won’t need the normal biometric acceptance before sending something into the network. Before we send the file off though, Ebenezer, can you double check that I haven’t missed anything when I entered the network, and double check that the loop coding I wrote to override the security doesn‘t have any bugs? Jimmy, I need you to make sure that I‘ve got into the right system. Sometimes a good programmer will feed you into false networks if you‘re not careful. We need to be in the email system.”  
  
Ebenezer and Jimmy went to either side of Roshaun, each pulling up the appropriate files and coding to double check Roshaun’s work. An hour later, both of them had confirmed that Roshaun’s work was clean of any potential issues.  
  
“Alright, now to just send it all off.” Roshaun did a few more things with a console, attached the message, and sent it off to every person on Tarsus IV. Not even a second later, there was a little _ping_ on Dr. Jameson’s PADD as the email was routed to him as well. Dr. Jameson opened the file, a broad smile that held no small amount of wickedness spread across his face.  
  
“This should piss Kodos off something fierce,” he declared darkly. “No more than he deserves, of course, and hopefully it will only be the beginning of his troubles.”  
  
Roshaun flopped back in the chair, fine gold hair nearly trailing on the floor. “I’ll drink to that,” he snorted, and rubbed a little at his temples. “I forgot how long you end up staring at the console when you’re hacking. I haven’t done it in a year.” He smiled, a little crooked and a little nasty. “But I managed to outwit Kodos, so I suppose that’s all that matters.”  
  
“Can people message the ID A Concerned Citizen back?” Dr. Jameson inquired, still looking at the email on his PADD.  
  
Roshaun shook his head. “It’s one way communication. If I’d made it two way, there would have been too many loopholes for Kodos’s people to take advantage of. If I slipped even once, I’d have brought them back to your door. I figured that it would be safer for everyone involved if I just kept it to one way. At least this way you can send out more emails from that ID. I recorded the access information by hand, and my programming should keep your IP address from getting out in the system along with the ID, so feel free to send whatever you need to.” Roshaun twisted in the chair, using its leverage to crack his back, sending a series of loud pops through the room.  
  
“That’s disgusting,” Yana informed him seriously.  
  
Roshaun huffed. “Like I care.” The two glared daggers at each other for a moment.  
  
“Children!” Gretchen reprimanded, looking irritated at their squabbling. She treated them both to a haughty look. Instead of looking embarrassed, they both made faces at her.  
  
“They’ll get stuck that way,” Gretchen threatened.  
  
“You can’t really expect us to believe that,” Roshaun said, raising one brow. “My mother attempted to tell me that once, and I spent hours attempting to freeze my face into a suitably horrible visage with which to scare my mother’s guests. Imagine my great disappointment when it did not happen.”  
  
“Children!” Gretchen exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air, “Children! I’m dealing with young, immature, and not-very-bright children!”  
  
“But of course,” Roshaun and Yana said in unison, using the same exact tone of belligerent sarcasm to accent their words. While they scowled at each other, the others laughed at their expressions.  
  
Dr. Jameson stood then, and everyone quieted down to see what he would say, somber mood creeping over the room. “I have to get ready for work,” he said into that silence, looking at each of them in turn. Jimmy wondered when Savik, O’las and Memeki had joined them upstairs, since he couldn’t remember hearing or seeing them come up from the basement. “You’re welcome to sleep some more, make plans of your own, and so on. I only ask that you don’t leave short of the house being on fire, and keep out of sight of the windows because the guards don’t walk around the city on a regular pattern; they prefer to be a nasty surprise.” Dr. Jameson’s tone told the entire group exactly what he thought of that, and they couldn’t help but agree.  
  
It was as if as soon as Dr. Jameson mentioned sleep, Jimmy wanted nothing more than to curl up and regain the hours he’d so sorely missed. As Dr. Jameson left, and with the others doing their own work, Jimmy returned to the basement alone, shucking off his shirt and curling under the blankets, pleasantly drowsy and on the verge of falling asleep. He shifted a little, looking for optimum comfort, and the blackness came.  
  
As earilier in the morning, Jimmy was not plagued by nightmares, and he thought it might have been the residual effects of the drugs on his system. He scrubbed at his hair desperately needing a shower and wondering what time it was. He noticed that Yana and Roshaun had returned to the makeshift bed and were sprawled out in opposite corners, as far from one another as they could be while still remaining on the bed.  
  
Jimmy let out a little chuckle and then regretted it, hating the fact that even the merest hint of humor had him ashamed, that he had managed to survive when Abby and the others hadn’t. He fought to clear his mind, to focus on their faces, on how they’d behaved around one another. He could still picture how they’d looked the last time that he’d seen them, mostly, but there were just a few detail missing, like how long Daniel’s hair had been, how Rukia’s eyes had tilted, the way Deshtom’s face creased when he smiled. Jimmy clenched his eyes shut, trying to bring forward those details, but they escaped him time and again. He never realized it when he started crying, silent and hot tears that streamed down his face, but he certainly realized it when Memeki scraped one claw across his face to wipe the tears off.  
  
“Fuck!” Jimmy yelled as he scrambled back, jumping off the bed entirely and out of reach of Memeki’s arms. “Don’t _scare_ me like that!” He shouted, raising one hand to get rid of the evidence of his tears.  
  
“I’m sorry!” Memeki cried, and her voice wavered dangerously.  
  
Jimmy instantly felt like a complete heel. “No, no, it wasn’t your fault,” he hastened to explain, petting her carapace to calm her. She trembled a bit beneath his gentle touch. “Sorry, Memeki, I didn’t mean to scare you, but you scared me. I didn’t realize you were down here.”  
  
Memeki made a small disconsolate sound. “I came down while you were sitting there with your eyes closed. I thought you heard me.”  
  
“No, I didn’t but- look, Memeki, not a big deal. You just startled me. What’s up? What time is it? Has Dr. Jameson gotten back from his work yet?”  
  
Memeki shook her head. “No, he hasn’t. It’s only nine.” Jimmy was surprised at that- he hadn’t been expecting to get a whole six hours, not after the trouble he’d has sleeping the last few nights. “Dr. Jameson won’t be home for another two hours or so. Everyone’s just keeping busy. Big J, Ebenezer and Savik got into an argument about what we’re going to do when Dr. Jameson gets back, since we can’t stay here. Savik doesn’t want to live outside. He says it’ll be suicide, with winter coming.”   
  
Memeki looked up at Jimmy trustfully, and before he realized what he was doing, Jimmy said, “Dr. Jameson told us that he’d be willing to give us blankets and stuff. As long as we’re not actually out sleeping on the ground when it snows and gets below freezing, we should be okay. We could stay in a cave, for example. That would help keep us from freezing, because caves are fairly insulated. It mean, if they’re not too deep, because then they do get pretty cold, but with blankets and pillows, it would be…” Jimmy realized that he was rambling and shut his mouth after finishing, “it would be fine.”  
  
Memeki didn’t look totally reassured, but she certainly looked less worried than she had before Jimmy had started talking, so he counted that as a victory. Unfortunately, his little speech had brought to mind everything that could still go wrong, and every worry that had left him while he slept returned full force and with friends. What would they do if they couldn’t stay at Dr. Jameson’s- which Jimmy couldn’t blame the doctor for at all, since he’d been right when he’d listed all the potential things that could go wrong. It truly would be better for them all if they could camp out in the woods, as foolish as that sounded, with a few basic amenities, like a water filter, that would prevent them of dying of anything but starvation.  
  
And there it was again, the ever present horror that hung over all their heads, the cause for all this destruction. Jimmy shuddered just to think of it- though perhaps it wasn‘t fair to say that the famine was the cause so much as it had inadvertently released the darker inner nature of their governor and his men. “The test of a man comes from how he handles power,” Jimmy murmured under his breath.  
  
“What was that?” Memeki asked.  
  
“Just something that my mom says all the time. I paraphrased a bit, I think, but you get the general idea.”  
  
Memeki made a sound of agreement, and didn‘t press any further, for which Jimmy was thankful. He didn’t think he could handle talking about his mom right then, not when everything was still so fresh. Jimmy’s stomach rumbled a little, and though he knew there was probably no food, drinking water would at least put something in his stomach, by his way of thinking, so he headed up the stairs, listening to Yana and Roshaun’s gentle snores fade. Memeki followed him, her many appendages clattering a little on the stairs. It made quite the racket, and Jimmy was surprised that he hadn’t heard her when she’d headed down the stairs earlier, if she’d made as much noise then.  
  
When he entered the kitchen, Big J and Karrin were already there, drinking weak tea made from the same tea bags they‘d used earlier in the day. Jimmy didn’t like tea, didn’t like the taste, and weak tea was worst of all, but at least it was more substantial than water, and would therefore lessen the hunger in his stomach, if only by the smallest of degrees. When he asked for a cup, Karrin pointed to where the kettle was still sitting on the stove; like the rest of Tarsus IV, there wasn’t a replicator to be found in the kitchen, which Jimmy still had some trouble getting used to. Even back in Iowa, in the boondocks of Riverside they’d had a replicator in their kitchen, albeit a small and simple one that broke down more often than it worked. Frank was always trying to tinker with it, despite the fact that he had no skill for mechanics, the asshole, and he’d never let Jimmy touch the thing, even though he knew more. Jimmy sighed a little as he poured himself a cup of tea, unable to reconcile Frank, Sam and his mom with Tarsus IV. They seemed to belong in a different, parallel universe, one that Jimmy only dimly remembered. Jimmy sighed again, took a sip of his tea and grimaced, wishing desperately for some sugar to sweeten the brew and knowing that there was none to be found.  
  
He sat down with it at the table next to Karrin, Memeki taking a seat opposite him. She had to maneuver a little awkwardly, since the chairs weren’t really designed to be comfortable to her physiology, but she managed fairly well. Jimmy spared a quick smile for her and the others. It wasn’t an entirely true smile, but it was better than nothing. The smiles they sent him in return weren’t that much better; everyone was getting worn down, tired of being afraid all the time, tired of looking over their shoulders. Jimmy didn’t blame them. It wasn’t the sort of thing that was easy to handle.  
  
“So where is everyone else?” Jimmy asked. Roshaun and Yana were downstairs, he knew, and there were four at the table, but that still left Gretchen, Ebenezer, O’las, Ianto and Savik unaccounted for.  
  
Big J shrugged a little. “Around,” he supplied. “I think Gretchen is trying to get O’las, Ianto and Savik a little cleaned up, so they’re not trekking dirt through the entire house. Don’t smell so great either. Ebenezer’s washing some of our clothes.” Jimmy blinked, having just noticed that Big J was shirtless and Karrin was covered in a bathrobe. Her cheeks had the fresh pink look to them, and Big J’s face was clear of the muck it had picked up , indicating that they too had bathed recently.  
  
It made Jimmy feel more messy and smelly than ever. He suddenly longed to get clean, to watch the dirt and muck flow down the drain. He stood, suddenly uncaring of the fact that his stomach was in full mutiny. “I think I’m going to get on that,” he said, looking rather woefully at his clothing. At the very least he could probably rinse the clothing under the sink. He had an extra pair of clean underwear, some extra socks and an extra shirt with him, but not a whole lot- none of them could afford to carry all that much clothing, especially not if they were also taking personal belongings.  
  
“You really ought to,” Big J said, wrinkly his nose. Jimmy made a face at him, sticking his tongue out for good measure. Big J wasn’t fazed.  
  
Jimmy spent about half an hour cleaning up, listening to the chatter that drifted through the house. It was strange to hear such mundane conversation, about soap and clean clothing and what they would be doing to keep themselves occupied for the remainder of the evening. It was surreal in a sense, though Jimmy knew it was unreasonable to expect the entire world to stop because of a few deaths. It made him sick to think of it that way, but it was also true. Jimmy had thought that people saying that ‘life can be summed up in three words: it goes on’ had been facetious at best, downright ignorant at worst, but he was finding that their words had a sort of unbreakable truth about them. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, the world was still turning, and Jimmy still had work to do, had things to accomplished, and he would rather rot in hell for eternity than let it stop here.  
  
So involved was he in his thoughts that he missed it when the chatter in the house slowed, quieted, and then stopped entirely.  
  
He didn’t miss the screams.


	10. There's So Many Wars We Fought

They were the screams of people panicked beyond all reason, the screams of people who no longer had a conscious mind, who were not quite sentient because of the fear that was crushing their very souls.  
  
Jimmy nearly ran into the door in his haste to get out of the bathroom, unconsciously still holding onto his soaked clothing, clattering down the stairs, heedless of any noise that he was making. The others were the same- he avoided tripping over Gretchen by a mere half a centimeter, and it was only Ianto’s steadying hand that prevented him from tumbling over the table in the kitchen. Even so, Jimmy managed to successfully clip his shoulder on the corner of the table, and he hissed at the bright flare of pain. Big J, Karrin, O’las, Roshaun, Yana, Gretchen, Ianto, Savik, Memeki, Ebenezer and Jimmy all met in the kitchen proper, looking at each other as if one of them was supposed to find the answer.  
  
“What is what?” Ebenezer roared to be heard over the screams, as well as the phaser whines and cries of pain and guards shouting orders, which compounded the sound into something that pressed down on Jimmy, making his vision darken alarmingly.  
  
Big J peeked out the windows, but it was too dark to see anything clearly. There were figures racing past the window, of course, and flares of lights from phasers. The guards were shouting something about choices and worthiness, about protecting yourself, but Jimmy couldn’t make out the individual phrases. It didn’t matter, anyways- not when the guards were wielding phasers with such carelessness. Jimmy watched aghast as a guard phasered a mother running away with a child, then dispatched the child with equal disinterest.  
  
Gretchen ran for the sink and barely made it in time to be noisily sick, as did Yana. O’las never made it, vomiting in one corner. No one was able to look at the sight, visages nauseated, disgusted and unable to comprehend what they were seeing.  
  
For Jimmy, it looked like the night that Abby died. “Kodos,” he whispered, and the sound was practically a shout in the deadly silence of the room. “Kodos must have decided to move, since his plan had been exposed. Why bother to spend time defending himself, when we inadvertently gave him the very opening he needed?” Jimmy almost didn’t realize that it was him speaking; the words came from and infinite distance away, and for a moment the sentences didn’t make sense, as though they were being spoken in a foreign language.  
  
“Everybody get their things now. We need to leave.” Ebenezer said, looking white as a ghost, into the silence left by Jimmy’s words. No one moved, somehow shocked into freezing at such a reasonable conclusion. Ebenezer’s eyes blazed at that, and in a voice that shook the rafter he bellowed, _“Get your things and get your asses back here! We need to leave, you idiots, and we need to do it now!”  
  
That_ had a response.  
  
Pushing, shoving, each trying to do as they had been ordered, they grabbed their things, grabbed the blankets and pillows and raced back up the stairs before fifteen seconds had elapsed. It was impossible to do anything else in the face of the sheer terror that had filled Ebenezer’s voice, the sheer conviction that if they did not move now they would be dead and worse than dead. They assembled before him, faces terrified.  
  
Ebenezer looked as terrified as any of them, nearly breathless with fear, but he didn’t move or didn’t speak as if that fear was so close to the surface, and for now, that was enough. Someplace in the back of Jimmy’s mind he wondered what had forged Ebenezer into the person that could stand against such oppressive terror and still speak, that could speak with absolute authority on revenge. Then Jimmy changed his mind when he saw something dark rise in Ebenezer’s eyes; he’d been marked by what had changed him, scarred badly.  
  
Jimmy suspected that Tarsus IV might do the same to him.  
  
The front door slammed open and Ebenezer and Big J were moving past them before anyone else could respond. Their reaction was unwarranted, however, because it was Dr. Jameson returning. He was disheveled, still in his scrubs from the hospital, and at least four different fluids stained his clothes. His hair stood on end as though he’d run fingers through it over and over again. His chest heaved, and between that and the sweat staining his hair and his shirt, it was clear that he’d run back to the house. Big J and Ebenezer stopped their attack before it could get started, instead pulling the man into the house and shutting the door behind him, muting the terrified cries that were getting louder and more frantic with each moment.  
  
He looked at all of them, assembled and ready to go and nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. He rummaged through his cupboards, handing out plates and cups and silverware, emptying his pantry into their bags until his shelves were empty. The older kids tried to protest, but Dr. Jameson silenced them with a look. “You’re going to need it and I’m not.” He left the room for a moment, rummaging around his room upstairs before coming back down, a phaser in his hand. Jimmy couldn’t restrain a gasp, nor could some of the others, but Dr. Jameson didn’t seem to notice. “Who’s the best shot here?” Big J immediately raised his hand and Dr. Jameson handed the weapon to him. “Use it. The guards aren’t exactly picky about who they’re attacking. I was nearly shot twice on my way here when I stopped to help someone. They don’t care who you are, only that you‘re out in the streets.”   
  
His mouth tightened as the volume of the screams surged again and urged them towards the door. There wasn’t time at the moment to panic, to frantically try and figure out the details. There was only time to move, to listen to orders, to try and survive the next minute, next hour, next day. Memeki was shaking so badly that her carapace was rattling, and Ianto, Gretchen and O’las all had tears streaming down their faces. “Come on. As you might have guessed, Kodos has moved. He’s got his guards rounding up the people that are on that infernal list of theirs. Riots have started as people are trying to get out of the city, trying to get as far out of Kodos’s control as possible. The number of guards have probably tripled, since Kodos somehow managed to convince more people to join his guards, and they’re keeping the city mostly in check, herding people back to their homes so they can be evaluated. You’ve got to get out of the city. They’re coming this way now, and if they catch you here you’re dead.”   
  
He shoved a PADD at Big J, who shoved it into his jacket pocket. Ebenezer herded them together, snapping out demands that they hold tight to one another, that they grip each other’s hands if it was the last thing they did- because if they let go, it may very well become the last thing they’d ever do. Dr. Jameson continued to speak to Big J, trusting Ebenezer to get them all organized. “That has the coordinates of some cave systems outside the city that might be suitable, the ones I got from my friend. Go. Go now- I’m going to stay and try to keep the children safe, gather them here until we know what happened to their families.” He practically shoved them out the door, closing it behind him. His face was distraught as he looked at the terror filling every inch of the scene before him. “If there is a merciful God, he will help me now.”  
  
Then Dr. Jameson was out in the street, lost in the fighting and fear, presumably to save as many souls as he could.  
  
Jimmy always wished he’d met the man sooner, that he’d known him better, that been able to become friends with the man who would risk his life for the people on this little backwater planet. He wanted to meet the man Abby had known, wanted to understand, wanted so desperately to learn more about the man who cared for the children during the riots, who wanted so badly to do good that nothing else could be considered. It was exhilarating, in these moments of destruction and pain to see something so bright and pure that it made Jimmy begin to weep.  
  
He never got the chance to, though., because Dr. Jameson was never seen again.  
  
Ebenezer kept them together, kept them moving, kept them focused, the need to get out of the city an overwhelming urge. They clung to each other, or tried to, but somewhere in the streets they managed to lose half the group, Gretchen, Roshaun, Ianto, Memeki and Yana somehow disappearing between one beat and the next. Jimmy didn’t know how they managed to get separated, never knew if it was the crowds, or if it was the guards or something else entirely- but he’d blinked, and they’d disappeared. Karrin let out a shriek when she realized that they’d been separated and was about to dart off into the crowds to try and find them, but Big J hauled her back. “We need to get out of here!” he bellowed, but there was a note of absolute despair in his voice that told Karrin without words how devastated he was. She began crying in earnest, sobs hitching her breath and making it hard for her to run. The fact that they’d lost the people they’d been through so much with, however, was a critical blow, and the fear and panic rose to fever pitch, nearly swamping them. Somehow they managed to restrain it, managed to continue moving forward though everyone simply wanted to tear the city apart until they’d found their friends once again.   
  
They couldn’t, however, so they did what they could. They stuck closer than ever, not so much as a centimeter of space between one person and the next. Big J kept them unerringly headed towards the outskirts and Ebenezer heading up the rear to prevent anyone else from getting lost. They were all they had now, and they would not, _could not_ lose anyone else, not without destroying themselves. As it was, Jimmy kept replaying the last glimpse he’d had of Ianto again and again, and began praying to any and all gods that Ianto would be safe with the others. If he wasn’t…if he wasn’t…well, Jimmy didn’t dare think about it, because that meant he’d failed, failed Abby, failed her dying wish.  
  
Jimmy swallowed down his tears and kept running.  
  
The closer they got to the edge of the city, the more the crowds thinned, as people spread out and began disappearing into the underbrush, nothing more than wraiths in the darkness. Jimmy heard a scream from nearby, and he halted, inadvertently making Savik and Ebenezer trip over his heels. He ignored them when they cursed him out, struggling to get him moving once more. His mind was solely on the scream. It had been a single scream, high and pure, too thin to belong to anyone but a child, and a young one at that. “Wait!” Jimmy shouted, and dodged Ebenezer’s hand when the older boy tried to restrain him. As one, they others followed him, shouting for him not to be foolish, to wait for them, the cries so varied they were nigh indistinguishable. All Jimmy knew was that he couldn’t leave that child, for some reason, couldn’t leave the city without trying to rescue even one person. He had to do it, he had to save one person or die, he knew that as well as he knew his own name.  
  
The child was young, hiding under a bench on the side of the street, hands over his head as he screamed in pure, unadulterated terror. Jimmy pulled him out from underneath the bench despite the fact that the kid bit and slapped and scratched at every bit of Jimmy he could reach, trying to get away from him. Jimmy ignored the flashes of pain, working on getting the kid out. When he finally did, the kid looked surprisingly cherubic, though Jimmy had another odd moment of déjà vu, as though he’d seen the kid before. He had corkscrew curls of light brown, with a round face and a set of large blue-green eyes that any female would kill for.  
  
Jimmy lifted him up, cradling the kid against his chest even as he realized that he was whispering reassurances, trying to calm the kid down. Ebenezer gripped Jimmy’s arm, whirling him around and startling both him and the kid. “Don’t do that again. We cannot, _cannot_ stop to rescue everyone that crosses our path, no matter how much we might like to,” Ebenezer said gruffly, but with no real heat. He smoothed the kid’s curls down, wiping at the kid‘s tears with the edge of his sleeve, wiping away the dirt that had stuck to the child‘s face. “We’ve gotta get going, you understand? The sooner we disappear the better it’ll be for us all, alright?”  
  
Jimmy nodded silently, holding the kid close and refusing to let anyone else carry the small boy.  
  
The sounds slowly grew dimmer as they left the city proper. There were still buildings around, but it was mostly residential, and there was not a single sign of life; if anyone was present, they certainly didn’t want to attract any attention. Footsteps rang behind them on the street, and Ebenezer hurried them forward, struggling to find a spot that was out of sight, that would prevent anyone from capturing them. They hid in the bushes near one of the houses, practically under the porch.  
  
A team of guards came barreling down the street, chasing a few men and women who were attempting to get away. Jimmy and the others covered their mouths, hardly daring to breathe. Even the nameless child had sensed the need for quiet and had buried his face in Jimmy’s shirt, as though if he hid from the evils of the world they would stop existing. Jimmy shut his eyes too, unable to face what he knew was coming; the guards were swifter than those trying to escape, and the whine of phasers echoed in the air. There were cries, and Jimmy felt obligated to turn away, strangely shamed at his inability to witness it.  
  
When silence once again reigned, Ebenezer held up a hand, telling them to wait while he explored. Big J held him back for a moment, putting the phaser into Ebenezer’s hand. The older boy treated Big J to a brief nod of thanks. There was a choked sound when he left the safety of their hiding spot for the street, and then a yell, though Jimmy couldn‘t tell if it belonged to Ebenezer or not. Someone hissed something, and this time Jimmy knew the voice was too light a tenor to be that of Ebenezer. There had to be someone else out there.  
  
Jimmy’s heart began to palpitate wildly, his limbs shaking with the effort to stay silent and still. The child in his arms struggled wildly for a moment in the too tight grip before Jimmy could bring back the presence of mind to loosen his grip. “Come out!” Ebenezer called cautiously. They moved slowly, warily, checking several times before they left their hiding spot.  
  
He had a guard trapped against the ground, arms twisted up awkwardly behind him and the phaser that Big J had handed him earlier was pressed to the back of his head. “I’m not going to do anything to you!” the man was hissing. Jimmy strained to catch a glimpse of his features, but the man’s face was twisted in the opposite direction. There was a sword just out of reach of his hand.  
  
“Like I believe that,” Ebenezer snorted, pressing the phaser a little harder to his head.  
  
“Not all of us agree with what Kodos is doing! If you let me up, I’ll show you were I hid the kid!”  
  
“What kid?” Ebenezer asked suspiciously.  
  
The man huffed a sigh. “The one that I managed to pull away from his parents before he was killed,” he snarled, and his entire body made a bid for freedom, twisting to throw Ebenezer off in a movement so sinuous and smooth that it looked as easy as taking a step. Jimmy was reluctantly impressed, even as he dragged Savik, O’las and Karrin away from the fighting.  
  
Ebenezer lost his hold on the man, rolling to the ground, phaser skittering away from him. Big J darted after it, trying to get a hold of it before the guard could get his hand on his sword. In the moonlight, Jimmy could see that his features were Asian, skin deeply tanned from the sun and his hair a rich black. He was faster in his movements, and when he got his hands on his sword, everyone froze, unwilling to draw attention to themselves. The guard hissed, “Come on! Do you want the kid or not?” careful to keep his sword in a neutral position, allowing Big J to pick up the phaser and train it on him without flinching. “I told you, there are some of us trying to save who we can. _Do you want the kid_?”  
  
Ebenezer cautiously nodded. The guard darted off, dragging a limp form from the bushes not three feet from the bodies in the street. “Here, take him. I had to knock him out to keep him from fighting me, but there shouldn’t be any lasting damage.” The guard shifted the kid’s dead weight into Ebenezer’s arms. “I have to go. If you see anyone else, try and get them outside the city; it’s damn near impossible to track anyone through the woods without any light, so you’ll have the best head start that way. There are probably some caves and whatnot out there too that you can hide in. Go!”  
  
Without so much as a goodbye, the man ran back towards the fighting and chaos in the city proper, sword held easily in one hand. Perhaps two or three streets down, they watched as he grabbed a woman’s arm. She tried to pull away, her cries audible, but the guard made no threat against her or her children. Instead, he spoke in a voice too quiet for Jimmy to hear, indicating the same direction as he had for Jimmy and the others, pointing towards the woods and their relative safety. The woman clutched his hand in thanks, but he waved her off and continued on.  
  
“Alright,” Ebenezer said in a shaky voice. “The woods it is. Big J, you’ve still got Dr. Jameson’s PADD?”  
  
“Yeah,” Big J grunted, pulling the object out of his pocket. He tapped the screen a few times, bringing up the map that Dr. Jameson had uploaded before giving it to them. Big J tapped the screen a few more times, using the PADD to orient their position. Jimmy adjusted the weight of the boy in his arms, arms growing increasingly sore. Ebenezer didn’t look any more comfortable; then again, the boy in his arms looked to be about eight or nine, glasses askew and a bruise purpling on one temple where the guard had presumably hit him with the hilt of his sword to silence him. “Come on,” Big J said when his work was done, officially leading them out of the city entirely and into the wilderness beyond.  
  
Jimmy was pretty sure they’d been walking for hours in the darkness, stumbling over roots and rocks, nearly crying from the exhaustion that begged them to stop walking and rest. They couldn’t take that risk, however; whenever they looked back, Jimmy could see a slight red haze just above the trees, and he felt sick, knowing that at least part of the city had been set aflame, though he wasn‘t sure who had done it. Even worse than that red blaze was the fact that there were sounds in the woods- the mutter of voices far off, the sound of the various native wildlife hooting and cawing and roaring, making them jump with fright, wondering if now was the moment that they would be eaten after all they had done to escape Kodos’s grip.  
  
They finally came upon a clearing perhaps thirty meters across, an enormous stone on the far edge. It looked like nothing so much as an elephant, in Jimmy’s eyes, the long nose hanging down from the bulky body. There was a crack that Jimmy could just barely see between two rocks. “That’s it,” Big J told them all, stopping at the edge of the clearing. “On the map it says there’s a small cavern right underneath those rocks. We’re nearly four hours from the city now- no one will be looking this far for us, and it’s unlikely that anyone else bothered to walk this far. We should have the entire area to ourselves.” A ragged cheer went up from them all, even though they knew they shouldn’t make a sound, even though it was nothing more than a small victory, even though there were so many problems awaiting them, they couldn’t help but celebrate that against all odds they managed to get out alive, saving two others in the process that might not have made it otherwise.  
  
Once they had quieted, they walked along the tree line, unwilling to present a target as they would if they walked straight across; the moon would point them out as clearly as a neon sign. Big J entered first, followed by Karrin and O’las, then Jimmy holding the young boy and Savik, with Ebenezer and the child that he was carrying slipping into the dim passageway last. Big J used the PADD’s light to guide their way down the natural steps that appeared, stones glowing eerily in the light. Before five minutes had passed, the cavern opened up, the cracked ceiling of the cavern letting in a small amount of moonlight, just enough that the cavern proper could be seen without the aid of the PADD. The moonlight made the small stream that passed through the cave glitter, the quiet rustling of the water soothing everyone’s raw nerves.  
  
They looked around, setting their things down in the center of the room. The cave was cold, but without the biting wind, the chill in the air was bearable. It would help that they had a blanket and some pillows with which to ward off the chill. With the cracks in the ceiling, it might even be possible to get a fire started, which would do wonders to warm up the room.  
  
That would all have to be handled in the morning. Jimmy’s aching arms informed him quite suddenly that if he did not set down the child in his arms, they were liable to fall off. Jimmy set the boy on the ground; Karrin, O’las and Savik all dropped to the ground as well, too exhausted to remain standing.  
  
“Jimmy, lend us a hand?” Ebenezer said, and it echoed loudly in the cave. “We want to set up a bed. I think that’s all we’ll be able to manage tonight,” he finished in a much quieter voice, to ensure his words didn’t echo nearly as loudly. He’d set the boy that he was carrying on the floor as well and was gathering up the blankets and pillows.  
  
“Sure,” Jimmy agreed sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. He wanted nothing more than to relax, to finally be able to rest- he knew he could do so even on the hard rock of the floor, he was so tired. Nevertheless, he made his way over to Big J and Ebenezer, who were setting up the blankets and pillows they’d carted from the city. The blanket was set on the floor, doubled over itself so that something would cushion their backs against the cold stone. The pillows were set at the top of the blanket. It was a simple bed, and though there weren’t enough pillows for everyone to have their own, and though the makeshift bed probably wouldn’t fit five people comfortably, let alone eight, it was still enough.  
  
Jimmy didn’t even remember his head hitting the pillow.  


~*~

Jimmy didn’t mind bringing back firewood, surprisingly. It was one of the rare times that anyone was allowed outside of the cave, the only other time being when they went to check the crude traps that Ebenezer had designed. Jimmy wanted to know where Ebenezer had learned to make them before, but when he’d asked, Ebenezer hadn’t been forthcoming with any answers, and the expression on his face was enough to make Jimmy wish he’d never asked. Despite that, Jimmy had applied himself to learning the art of making snares as well, mimicking Ebenezer’s every move until he was as efficient at making them as the older boy was. Ebenezer was also teaching his the art of where to set them, describing how to hide them and warning him that they would have to be moved fairly frequently as the animals became used to avoiding the spots where the traps were hidden.

Somehow, in the process of learning all this, Jimmy had become the de facto second in command of their little group, with Ebenezer as the leader. Big J worked on keeping the program members, as well as the two kids they picked up on their journey, Teddy and Gabriel, relatively calm. He made up games for them, made sure that the fire kept going, made sure that everyone was fed and that the water was clean, generally working to keep the fact that they were more or less constrained to the cave as unnoticeable as possible.

Ebenezer did his best to make sure that they had supplies, doing things like making the snares in order to be sure they had a steady supply of protein from the small animals they caught. He was the one that killed the animals if the snares hadn‘t already, the one that prepared them so they could eat them, in an effort to keep the food that Dr. Jameson had shoved in their packs from being eaten too quickly. Between their five bags, they had nearly fifty cans of various foodstuffs, as well as two loaves of bread and some juice. When Jimmy had seen the food assembled, he’d believed that it would last two weeks easily, if not more, but he’d underestimated the amount of food needed to feed eight people at least one meal a day. Even with the squirrel-like animals and the few birds that Ebenezer had managed to catch, the food was running out by the end of the first week. Ebenezer had even risked accessing the PADD, which could potentially be used to track them down when it was turned on, to see what fruits and vegetables were edible in the area.

Through it all, Jimmy followed Ebenezer’s lead, believing his work to be more interesting than just sitting in the cave all day, waiting for it all to change, waiting to be rescued like some damn damsel in distress. He’d rather be out here, working actively to survive than waiting passively for someone else to rescue him. So he learned everything that Ebenezer could teach, from what fruits and vegetables could be harvested from the woods to how to catch, kill and prepare animals for food. It was messy work, a lot of the time, but when it resulted in the younger kids no longer complaining about how hungry they were, it made him feel taller, older, like he was greater than Kodos could have ever dreamed. It made him believe that Kodos didn’t have a hold on him anymore.

Nearly a week passed before Ebenezer felt that it was safe to head back towards the city. During that time, not a single soul had been seen in the area. It was as if no one else existed but them, as though the city and what had happened there was little more than a bad dream. So when Ebenezer announced his plans to head back and investigate the status of things, there was immediate and emphatic outcry.

It took nearly ten minutes for him to quiet them all so that he could speak. “It’s dangerous,” he admitted, and swiftly held up a hand before there could be more shouts, “but it’s _necessary_. We need to know if Kodos is still in power; we have no way of knowing what happened after we left; maybe everyone gathered together and killed the idiotic bastard. Maybe they’ve found a way to make more food. We don’t know. Not knowing these things could get us killed- if we just stay out here, then what? We might waste away, unable to feed ourselves while everyone else is merry and cheerful and eating whatever they please each night. Even if it’s the worst case scenario, and Kodos is still in power, well, we’ll need to know that too. We can’t just stay here and keep our heads in the sand. I‘ve also got to get rid of this thing.” He held up the PADD. “As useful as it’s been, if Kodos is still in power, it could be used against us, assuming it hasn’t already been. We can’t keep it.”

Jimmy had to admit that he had a point, even if he didn’t want to admit it. They really didn’t have a choice about returning to the city- they needed to know the status quo so they would know where to go from here. Ebenezer was also right in saying that it would be dangerous, because it was entirely possible that Kodos had quelled the uprising, taken the people he felt to be unworthy, and simply killed them. Jimmy didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to think about Kodos or the city. Out here, it was easy to forget, to get lost in doing ordinary things, and it was almost like Abby had never died, or that Ianto and the others hadn’t gotten lost and that they didn‘t even know if they were still alive. If it weren’t for the night terrors and the inexplicable tears that sometimes overwhelmed Jimmy, he’d have thought that it had never happened at all.

And it was so much easier to live that way, to just forget.

“I don’t think you should go alone,” Big J stated finally, interrupting Jimmy‘s thoughts. Like Jimmy, he’d seen the wisdom of Ebenezer’s conclusion, though if the frown on his face was any indication, he didn‘t like the concept in the least.

Ebenezer shook his head, however, face looking too old for his age. “I have to. You’re needed here to watch over everyone, make sure that we’re not seen or heard. I can’t take the younger kids-” Ebenezer gestured at Karrin, Savik, O’las, Teddy and Gabriel, who were watching the oldest of the group converse in strained silence, “-and Jimmy is needed here to continue what I was doing, should something happen to me.”

That, of course, produced another general outcry, which forced Ebenezer to bellow, “Quiet!” before they would shut up. “It’s a possibility,” he said harshly into the stunned silence. “It’s always a possibility, just like it is every time either Jimmy or I leaves the cave. We could be caught by guards, we could be killed by some of the larger predators in the woods. We could trip and fall down into a ravine. We just don’t know, but we have to prepare for as many possibilities as we can.”

Once again, Ebenezer’s argument was hard to dispute, much as they all might have liked to. The idea that one of them could be killed was anathema to them; no one wanted to admit that it could happen, despite all that had happened the past few weeks. It was easier to bear that way.

Though Ebenezer’s argument was sound, Jimmy lay awake that night, listening to the soft breathing of his friends around him and found that he still believed that it was best for two people to go, as Big J had suggested. Two people might see the signs of danger where one would miss it, but two was not so large a party to draw unwarranted attention. Ebenezer’s arguments against either Big J or Jimmy coming with him were also true, but Jimmy considered himself to be the best choice, since Big J was the only one who could keep the younger children occupied, just as Ebenezer had pointed out. Jimmy, however, wasn’t as irreplaceable as Ebenezer had made him sound, in Jimmy’s opinion. It hardly took a genius to lay the snares and check them for the animals later. With the matter thusly sorted out in his head, the next morning Jimmy told Big J he was going to check the snares for the day, a mere twenty minutes after Ebenezer had left. The task would take him two hours- or rather, would have if that was what he was actually planning to do- and by the time Big J realized what had happened, it would be far too late for Big J to do anything but wait for their return.

Ebenezer had set out just as the sun had risen; by the time Jimmy set out, the sun was fully over the horizon and melting the frost off the grass. He used the sun to orient himself. Since he knew the general direction of the city was north, by keeping the sun to his right for about three and a half hours, he should reach the city without any trouble. It was easier to make the journey in the day than during the night, for which Jimmy was thankful, since he wanted to catch up to Ebenezer _before_ he got to the city; Ebenezer wouldn’t just leave him to fend for himself, Jimmy was sure, especially since the older boy couldn‘t force Jimmy to return to the cave.

He was right- when he caught up to Ebenezer just as the city came into view through the trees, the older boy had verbally torn Jimmy limb from limb. Jimmy was just beginning to doubt the veracity of his plan when Ebenezer relented, saying he that knew that he couldn’t just leave the boy in the woods so close to the city, not without running the risk of someone seeing him, and couldn’t he force Jimmy to return to their cave. In all likelihood, the boy would simply continue to follow him until Ebenezer accepted his help. Therefore, Jimmy would simply have to come with him.

Jimmy was pleased with this final state of affairs.

Ebenezer, not so much.

However, Ebenezer set aside his irritation for the moment, focusing as they entered the city. Ebenezer was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if Jimmy was present, then he was certainly going to use the younger boy to his advantage. After setting out some ground rules that could be summed up as a “Do what I say, or I will flay you alive” from Ebenezer, the pair of them continued towards the city, more and more anxious with each step they took, wondering what had happened during the time that they’d been gone. The second they step foot in the city, however, it was almost immediately clear as to what happened: their worst fear had indeed been realized.

Kodos was still in control of Tarsus IV.

There were guards everywhere, eyeing the men, women and children who walked in the street with a careful eye and a sneering expression on their faces. The citizens of Tarsus IV cowered under the guard’s control for the most part, and more than one person crossed the street to avoid passing directly by a guard. Others, of course, were clearly proud to be among Kodos’s chosen, and walked in the streets as though it was no less than they deserved. It made Jimmy want to be sick, to slap the arrogant grins off their faces and somehow force them to understand that they were wrong, wrong on too many levels to even begin to describe. The entire time, Ebenezer and Jimmy kept moving, never staying long enough to attract attention, wandering around the city trying to mimic the same hesitant and frightened movements that almost everyone else was making.

Jimmy wondered what had made the citizens so cowed despite all the Kodos had done to them, and their faces made Jimmy irrationally angry. “Why don’t you fight back!” he wanted to shout at all the pale faces. “Why didn’t you take him down! You have the power- you outnumber the guards five to one, and still you pretend to be invisible. Get angry! I can tell from your expressions that you don’t think this is right, that you don’t think that you are any more worthy than anyone else, and yet you’re letting Kodos do as he pleases. This is wrong. You know it’s wrong. So get off your asses, and _do something. Please_!” However, the words never reached Jimmy’s lips, silenced before Jimmy could bring the attention of Kodos down on his head.

It wasn’t easy to resist saying the words.

Ebenezer and Jimmy wandered around the city, collecting a picture of the situation from whispered murmurs and shy comments that horrified the pair of them to their very core. If the rumors were correct, Kodos had spent the last week or so rounding up the ‘unworthy’ members of society from all the cities and the woods into which they‘d escaped when they‘d discovered Kodos‘s plan from the email sent out by ‘A Concerned Citizen‘, gathering them in the only jail on the planet, about twenty minutes north of the city by shuttle, or an hour by foot if the person was walking. Now that he had nearly all of the people assembled, he had sent an message out the previous day, telling everyone of how his decision would save the remainder of the colonist’s lives, how they would live because of his kindness, how he would be killing the unworthy ones at noon the following day. The bastard had even invited all those who wished to see and honor the sacrifice the other colonists were making for the good of all to attend their execution. When he’d heard that, Jimmy had to stop, darting down an alleyway in order to vomit what little food he had in his system, disgusted beyond words at what Kodos was doing.

More importantly, however, than what the message had contained was the fact that it had been sent out the previous day.

Which meant that the unjust execution of thousands of innocents would take place in a mere hour’s time.

“Ebenezer, we’ve got to go!” Jimmy hissed, tugging on Ebenezer’s arm, trying to get him to agree. Surely he could understand that it was imperative that they make their way to the jail in which the _sacrifices_ \- Jimmy blanched internally at the word- were being kept. If they could find them, if they could get in, then surely they would be able to get them out, to save their lives.

“Are you _crazy_?” Ebenezer demanded in a venomous hiss. Clearly, he didn’t share in Jimmy’s conclusion. “Do you remember what I told you about revenge, boy? What the hell could be accomplished from two kids without a single tool to their name- without so much as a phaser, since ours ran out of energy four days ago- when they’re going up against a couple hundred guards and Kodos himself? There isn’t any way in hell that we’re going anywhere near that place. We’re probably on that list to be killed too- do you think that Kodos wouldn’t care that we’d disappeared off the face of the planet, that we’d somehow managed to outwit his guards and survive?” Ebenezer had Jimmy in an almost punishing grip, and Jimmy was terrified of this Ebenezer who spoke with the fires of hell in his voice and in his eyes. “No. We will _not_ waste everything we’ve accomplished in some half-baked scheme to free his prisoners.”

Jimmy stepped backwards, out of his grip, staring at Ebenezer like he’d never seen him before. “But don’t you understand?” Jimmy spat back, unable to believe what Ebenezer was saying. “We have to at least try! If we don’t, we might as well have condemned them to death ourselves!”

Jimmy didn’t wait for Ebenezer to defend himself- he just ran away, letting the red hot fury boil up in him as he sprinted through the city, breathing labored as he made his way north. Jimmy didn’t care what Ebenezer said, didn’t care that his words carried a seed of truth that made his argument that much harder to stomach. Jimmy ran straight through the northern part of the city and onto the trail that had been cut into the trees to allow the prisoners to be transported into the jail. He ran like he hadn’t before in his life; he’d always been faster and stronger than his classmates, and now he put those skills to good use, outdistancing Ebenezer before the older male realized what was happening and reaching the imposing metal structure in half the time it would have taken him if he walked. He burst through the trees and out onto the grass lawn that spread out in all directions around the jail, which lay perhaps two hundred meters ahead.

The sight that awaited him was even worse than the fate that awaited the innocents within the jail itself: a thousand people, perhaps more, had actually _responded_ to Kodos’s invitation, gathered in front of an enormous screen outside the building, guards stationed around them in a sick honor guard; more guards were standing at every entrance and yet another set of guards formed a lose ring around the entire affair. In the group in front of the screen, there were men, women, and even _children_ present, come to see the spectacle like it was a circus, a show, something meaningless that could be forgotten once they departed for the day. Jimmy was literally struck speechless, his mind a completely blank, unable to formulate anything to say or do that would begin to cover the hatred that filled every cell of his body, that hatred that made him feel as he would spontaneously combust from the pressure of his rage.

He gasped, struggling to catch his breath, trying to wrap his mind around what he was seeing, when Kodos’s face appeared on the screen.

“People of Tarsus IV,” he began in a pleasant voice, as if today was no different than any other day. “I’m glad to see that some of you have chosen to honor your fellow colonist’s sacrifice, unwilling though it may be. I’m sorry that you will have to settle for seeing everything through a live feed, but I hope you will understand that I cannot risk the colonists escaping, by their own will or by a plot constructed those who disagree with me, as that would defeat the purpose of today’s dreadful task.” He spent a moment in silence, as though he were repenting for his actions.

Jimmy collapsed in the grass, staring blankly at the screen, realizing in a distant sense that it would be impossible, absolutely impossible to rescue the people, no matter what he’d hoped. He’d hoped that because they were innocent, because he was going out of his way to save them, that somehow he’d actually succeed like the heroes did in all the stories.

But this wasn’t some goddamn fairy tale, this was _life_ , which didn’t always come with a happy ending- Jimmy should have known that, _did_ know it, because his father was dead, and it had broken their family that day into too many pieces to be mended.

The view on the screen changed, and it was clear that Kodos was moving into the area where the colonists had been assembled. As he opened the doors, curses, screams, prayers and more erupted, the sheer sound of the colonists’ agony pressing against Jimmy like a knife to the heart. He heard himself gasp, a choking, wet sound.

Kodos began speaking over the noise, the microphone amplifying his words a thousand times over, drowning out the words of the colonists he was about to have sentenced to death. He spoke with a steady cadence, without responding to a single thing that the colonists said, no matter how crude or desperate. “I deeply regret this necessity, my dear colonists. Were there any other way, I would take it, but the famine has forced me to make hard choices so as to allow the maximum number of people to live. Therefore, it is with greatest sorrow that I announce that you and your family members are not suited to survive, and therefore must be put to the death. The reasons you were selected are varied. For example, some of you have higher metabolisms, and therefore will burn through energy faster than we can afford to supply it. Others of you are prone to sickness. Since disease often rides on the heels of famine, we cannot afford to spend extra time nursing any more ill than absolutely necessary during this time.” Kodos smiled a little at the words, as though he expected to be praised for his cleverness. Jimmy had never had the urge to kill someone before, but every word that came out of Kodos’s mouth made him want nothing more than to blast the man’s head off with the same phaser that had killed Abby, and would likely kill the people in that area, the people who were being sentenced to death for nothing more than the genes they carried.

“The famine means that the survival of our colony depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered, signed Kodos, Governor of Tarsus IV.”

They shut off the monitor then, but not quickly enough- Jimmy heard the screams and cries and the whine of the phasers for the longest instant of his life.

Jimmy scrambled back into the tree cover as people started to move, clapping at the end of Kodos’s speech as if Kodos had done something worthy, done something that deserved being acknowledged as anything other than one of the worst crimes committed in the history of all sentient life. Jimmy dry heaved, but nothing was left in his stomach to come up, and the little bit of bile that did rise made it feel like he’d taken a knife to his esophagus. He sobbed, helpless and terrified and feeling like a pitiful child, knowing that he was as worthless as he’d been the day his father had been born, unable to help those who needed it most. He lost sight of his surroundings, lost sight of anything but Kodos’s final message to the colonists, repeating again and again in his head on an endless loop that drove him to the edge of his sanity and beyond.

“Kid, come on, move now. We’ve got to get back, Jimmy, come on!”

Pain flared across one cheek, but it barely registered. The constant tugging did, however, and Jimmy obediently followed, uncaring of anything but the scene replaying in his mind’s eye. He responded to nothing Ebenezer said or did, lost in his own mind. “Alright, Jimmy, come on. We’ve got to move faster, Jimmy, they’re coming!” Ebenezer’s voice was getting frantic, and the phrase ‘they’re coming’ brought Jimmy back to himself, at least a little.

“Who’re coming?” he slurred.

“The guards, Kodos’s guards! We’ve got to get around the edge of the city without anyone seeing us, Jimmy. Do you understand, kid? They followed me when I ran after you, and they’re coming after us now. Come on, don’t faint on me, I can’t carry you all the way back! Jimmy, we‘ve got to move!”

“’M not gonna faint,” Jimmy retorted, but his tongue still felt thick.

“That’s it, boy, keep talking to me!”

Jimmy heard yells in the distance, but it didn’t sound like Ebenezer or any of his friends, which was probably bad. His feet picked up the pace yet more, but they felt strangely rubbery and prone to giving out at random moments. “About what?” Jimmy complained, and bile once again rose in his throat as Kodos’s face seemed to loom out in front of him for a moment.

“We don’t have time for that!”

There were the whine of phasers now, and blossoms of fire were growing on the densely packed trees. Jimmy was forced to run even faster, chest starting to heave as he struggled to get in enough breath.

“Come on, to the river, to the river, boy! You can make it that far! We can use the river to get swept downstream- it heads further into the forest, where the shuttles can‘t go because the forest is too closely packed. If we get to the river, we can probably escape.”

The phaser blasts were missing by less now, which Jimmy knew was a bad thing.

“The river, the river’s just up ahead, please, kid, just a little further, you can do it!”

Jimmy stood on the bank for a moment, looking at the five meter drop with trepidation.

“In you go kid, in you-”

Blood sprayed Jimmy’s face and he turned, everything snapping back into place as he turned, the wound on Ebenezer’s back throwing him into the water. Jimmy watched with a dawning sense of horror, realizing what had happened, and how it had happened, and why it had happened- because Jimmy had been fool enough to think that he could be a hero, when he was clearly nothing more than a worthless punk kid.

With a shout, Jimmy jumped in after Ebenezer just as another phaser was fired; the blast sliced along the edge of his arm, and the limb felt like it was on fire. Then there was nothing but rushing water and the struggled to breath for a small eternity, until blackness took over his vision.

Jimmy awoke on a bank and rolled over, vomiting up water and bile for several minutes before his head cleared. He looked around him, spotting Ebenezer’s still form not three meters away. He crawled over to the older boy, who was sprawled on his front, his back a mass of torn flesh and blood that nothing could have survive.

“No,” Jimmy whispered, pushing the boy over so as to see his face. “No, no, no, God, please no. Please let him be alive. He can’t have risked his life to save mine, he should have just left me there, he _warned me_ , warned me that revenge would get people killed, he was just fine a couple of minutes ago, we walked to the city this morning, it‘s not fair, it‘s not fair, it‘s not _fair_ -”

Ebenezer’s eyes opened the merest slit at Jimmy‘s babbling, and the tiniest of smiles creased his face. “Not your fault, Jimmy.”

“How can you say that!” Jimmy cried, tears streaming down his face.

He opened his mouth to say more, but Ebenezer cut him off, voice barely stronger than a whispered, the sentences broken by frequent pauses for breath. “They were…following us in the…city, Jimmy. We were…never going to be…able…to leave without…them attacking…us. We were…doomed…the second we…stepped into that…godforsaken shit-hole. Don’t blame…yourself. You running off like that…is probably the only thing…that kept us from…getting shot on…the spot. Startled them. They didn’t know…where we were…going. What we were going to…do. Until they…knew that…they weren‘t going to…kill us.”

“Liar,” Jimmy countered, a pained laugh filling his voice. “You really are just saying that to make me feel better.”

Ebenezer’s lips twitched. “Never,” he swore, and there was a faint touch of humor in his voice that Jimmy hated him for, just a little. Ebenezer was _dying_ , and he was still trying to convince Jimmy that it wasn’t his fault, that it had been nothing he could control. “Wouldn’t…lie to you…about that.” Ebenezer took in a painful breath that rattled in his chest, and Jimmy‘s heart ached at the sound. “Keep them safe, Jimmy. Use…what I taught you. Trust you.”

His eyes slipped close.

Jimmy sat there, barely breathing before he reached out trembling hands, resting his fingers against the pulse in Ebenezer’s throat.

There was no pulse, no sign of life in Ebenezer’s grey, slack face. Jimmy slowly withdrew his hands, staring blankly at Ebenezer’s body, at the expressive hands, at the wiry form, at the strong muscles.

Jimmy never knew how long he sat there, waiting for Ebenezer to show some sign of life. He didn’t register his own aches and pains from the phaser wound and his time in the water. He just sat there, dripping water until a part of him whispered in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Ebenezer’s, “Well get up, you fool boy. They’re depending on you now. And if you let them down, I will come back from the dead and kill you myself.” Jimmy was pretty sure that hearing voices was a sign of insanity, but he couldn’t be bothered enough to care.

“Okay,” he murmured, but he didn’t stand. There was something that he had to do, he couldn’t just leave Ebenezer’s body there. He placed a hand on one chilly cheek, breathing, “Thank you,” in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own. It was a voice that no longer had any limits, a voice that acknowledged that anything that kept everyone alive was fair game. “I’m pretty sure you’re wrong about all that, but it doesn’t matter, because I won’t let you down again. Ever. I’ll do anything I have to, to keep them alive. _Anything_.” The last word was a snarl so fierce that the entire area of the woods went silent in response to the danger the sound represented. He breathed hard for a minute or two, the coldness of his decision settling not into skin or muscles, but into his bones, into his heart, his soul, where he knew it was available whenever he needed it.

Once Jimmy’s resolve crystallized into something as pure and strong as diamond, he stood and walked into the woods.

He never looked back.


	11. Don't Care If We Bend, I'd Sink Us to Swim

Eight people stood on the transporter pad for Mr. Scott to beam down- Four members of Security, Lieutenant Sulu, Nurse Chapel, Spock and Sarek. The transporter console was still in considerable disarray, though it looked better than it had the last time that Spock had seen it. Mr. Scott was in the center seat, dialing in coordinates for the spot from which Captain Kirk’s signal was being transmitted- or rather, above the spot from which Captain Kirk’s signal was being transmitted. Chekov was still underneath the console, making some last minute adjustments by hand so that they would be able to beam up the landing party whenever they needed to.  
  
When he had completed his work, Chekov slid out from under the console, brushing himself off before taking the chair next to Scotty, bringing up several files and nodding at them. He typed in a few more commands into the console, and whatever readings he received made him nod again, pleased. “Alright. We’re online and locked on your signal.” Chekov reported, looking at the First Officer.  
  
Spock unholstered his phaser and held it at the ready, as did the other members of the party, with the exception of Sulu, who bore his sword in one hand and a long knife in the other. Nurse Chapel’s other hand was also full, carrying a tricorder to use to check Captain Kirk’s injuries, should he have any. Each member of the party carried themselves with a tentative wariness, each wondering what they would find down on that planet, hoping that they were not going to be too late.  
  
 _Are your shields prepared, Spock_? The words resonated curiously, as though Spock was hearing them both with his ears and in his mind, a result of the bond between him and his father being in use for the first time in many years.  
  
Spock carefully inspected his shields, which met his satisfaction. _Yes. And you_?  
  
 _Satisfactory_. Sarek glanced at him of the corner of his eye, and Spock automatically shifted to give his father a better view, another side effect of the bond being in use, it seemed; there was an awareness that exceeded the norm between parent and child. Perhaps it was because of their ages, since rarely was a bond between parent and child used after the bonding ceremony took place at the age of seven, and when the bond was used, it was never for an extended period of time. The curious sense of duality may have also been due to the fact that Spock’s increasing reasoning capacity as he’d grown older had resulted in a deeper understanding of his father. When he had been a child, Spock had not fully understood his father’s decisions, but as Spock had grown and gained a fuller appreciation for the world around him, they had become clearer. As a result, intentions that Spock would have examined with confusion once he now reacted to instinctually, able to discern his father’s goal and respond without requiring explicit instructions.  
  
Spock looked around the pad one more time, visually confirming that everyone was prepared for the mission ahead of them. “Mr. Scott, energize.”  
  
Spock had expected, in some sense, that they would be beamed down to the area where the Captain had last been seen, near the enormous tree with the deep violet and brilliant blue foliage. When Spock had gone over his memories, looking for details that he may have missed the first time around, he felt certain that whatever had kidnapped their Captain had come out from under that tree that had begun shaking, though Spock had no idea how such a thing would be possible. Therefore, it seemed logical to begin there.  
  
Evidently, however, the Captain’s signal was not located at that tree any longer. They were beamed down in the middle of the forest, true, but this tree was not the one that they’d seen on their last visit to the planet. It was equally large, equally imposing with the enormous trunk wrapped around itself and the branches forming that same elegant arches that Spock had found so pleasing when they’d first beamed down. Likewise, this tree had amethyst and sapphire foliage, the flowers bigger than Spock’s spread palm. This tree, however, lacked the gold bark of its fellow trees.  
  
Instead, the bark was silver.  
  
Spock stepped forward for a closer look, Sarek following on his heels. Sulu, Chapel and the Security team paced forward too, wondering what had gotten their leader so interested. When Spock examined the bark more closely, he found that it was not quite silver, but instead made of a strange, almost translucent material that almost looked to be veined in silver. Spock itched to take a sample, to discover what exactly made up the trunk. He glanced around him, confirming his suspicions; as far as he could see, there was not a single other tree made from this material in the area.  
  
Spock straightened then, realizing that he’d been remiss in his duties. He flipped open his comm and signaled the Enterprise. “Mr. Scott, we have successfully beamed down to the planet. We see no sign of any life beyond the plant life that we identified earlier.”  
  
“Good,” came the reply over his comm. “And if I’m reading this correctly, the Captain is more or less underneath you. He’s at least seventy meters down, mayhaps more if my sensors are as screwy as I think they are.”  
  
“Thank you, Mr. Scott. We will keep you posted. We will search visually for some means to get underground, but if geology is able to find anything on their scanners, report it. Be ready at all times to beam us back to the ship. Should we go underground, we will warn you of our intentions, for I am unsure if we will be able to communicate the further underground we go. If we are not heard from for more than two hours, contact Starfleet with our status.”  
  
“Aye. I’ll pass it along.”  
  
“Very well. Spock out.”  
  
Spock turned towards his team, intending to begin instructing them as to how they would conduct this rescue, when a strange pressure filled his senses once more. He held his hand up for silence, closing his eyes so as to better concentrate on the elusive feeling. Through the bond, Spock could sense that Sarek was also closing his eyes.  
  
The pressure was the same one that he’d attributed to his intake of excess oxygen previously, but what he now recognized as emotion, subtle thus far and not exerting overt pressure, but present nonetheless. Spock checked his shields, pleased that they were holding, protecting his mind. Instinctively he checked his father’s as well and felt Sarek do the same for him. The nanites were next, and Spock noted that his breathing and heart rate had not changed so much as an iota.  
  
“Commander Spock?” Sulu asked, dark eyes worried.  
  
Spock opened his eyes, directing his gaze towards the Asian pilot. “As we theorized, there are indeed sentient beings on this planet.” The words made the men and women present shift carefully, warily eyeing their surroundings as though someone would leap out at any moment. Of course, paranoia wasn’t paranoia unless nothing happened. “This is the same feeling that I mistook earlier to a reaction to the high oxygen content in the air. The feeling is not yet strong, and therefore I do not believe that these beings, whoever they are, are nearby. I ask that you remain on your guard. We will move in two groups of four, that we might cover better ground, staying in constant radio contact. Report anything you believe may be significant, and I will report if I sense the beings moving. Mr. Scott has informed me that the Captain’s signal is coming from a minimum of seventy meters beneath the surface, perhaps more, so our focus shall be on attempting to find some means to get below the surface, such as a cave. If you discover such a place, report your findings immediately and hold your position until the entire landing party has assembled. No one is to investigate any such discovery unless everyone is together. Weapons are to be at the ready at all time, but do not fire unless you have cause to. It is still a possibility that the sentient beings did not intend to kidnap Captain Kirk, due to the fact that he was alone on the surface at the time. Since we do not know their technological status, it is possible that they had no means of contacting us or even realizing that our ship was in orbit.”  
  
There were a chorus of, “Yes, sir!” from the six men and women standing in front of him. Spock got everyone organized, regretting the fact that Sarek would have to travel in the same group as him, lest they inadvertently exceed the amount of space allowed between them and break their bond. If it had been possible, he would have placed one telepath with each group, that they might better protect and warn the crewmembers they were traveling with.  
  
 _It is necessary_ , Sarek intoned, voice deep enough and powerful enough to be felt in Spock’s bones.  
  
Spock suppressed a wave of irritation automatically, hoping that his father could not sense the emotion. He was careful not to let his face shift to show his annoyance. If Sarek did feel it, he kept his council and waited patiently for Spock to respond. _Yes, father_.  
  
Sarek was not listening, however. He’d turned, facing the tree and stepping towards it again. _There is something unusual about this plant_ , he said as he leaned close enough to touch it. Everyone else froze, wondering what had caught the elder Vulcan’s attention and wondering how they should tell him not to get too close to an unknown substance. “There is something here.” Sarek reported, circling the enormous tree slowly. “No…not something here. But there is a certain sentience attached to these trees.” Sarek completed his circle and held out his hand until it was a mere centimeter away from the tree.  
  
“The trees kidnapped Captain Kirk?” Lieutenant Olin asked nervously, shifting his weight and eyeing the trees around them with no small amount of trepidation.  
  
Spock reached out with his psionic senses. Though he had more powerful telepathy, Sarek’s was the more finely tuned after almost a century of use. He focused on the tree, exposing as much of his senses as he dared to the tree. His father was correct; there was some measure of awareness in the plants. They were aware in only the most basic of senses however, in that they knew that they existed, knew that there were many lives present, all intertwining. They didn’t have a name for themselves, however, didn’t have a concept of life beyond the most basic amenities, didn’t have a sense of history. However, they also had a strange sense of an ‘Other’ that they worked with. The Other helped feed them, helped make sure that they didn’t die of sickness or from malnutrition. In returned, they helped to shelter the Others. Perhaps this other was what had taken Captain Kirk. Whoever this Other was, they were certainly more sentient than the trees, if they had the awareness to help another species.  
  
“No,” Spock reported somewhat absently to Olin‘s question, his focus still on the tree. “They are sentient in some sense, but not enough to warrant the Captain’s disappearance. They don’t have true consciousness, merely an embryonic awarness.” There were several sighs behind him as they other members of the landing party presumably relaxed their tight hold on their weapons and stood more comfortably, waiting for the Commander to finish what he was doing. A whispered conversation broke out behind him, but Spock ignored it, returning his attention to the translucent trunk, the flowers and leaves nearly black against so pale a surface.  
  
Spock sent out a small wave of curiosity and interest at the enormous tree and got a sense of confusion in return, and inability to comprehend what was going on. The tree had only a rudimentary understanding of what Spock had just done. The tree knew they weren’t like the Others, and they also weren’t like other members of the species of trees itself. It had no idea what to do. Spock could hear the muttering behind him get a little louder but continued to ignore it, exposing a little more of his telepathy in hopes that he could better understand what the trees around them were saying.  
  
As soon as he realized what his son was doing, Sarek came to stand beside him, withdrawing completely behind his shield and hovering at the edge of Spock’s mind, ready to raise Spock’s shields and protect his son from any unexpected attacks while Spock concentrated on figuring out if the trees could be of use in figuring out where their Captain was located.  
  
Spock paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to better connect to these semi-sentient trees, to make them understand what Spock wanted. He didn’t think that they would recognize the idea of looking for someone or something, and sending an image of the Captain would be of no help whatsoever considering that the trees could not see. He stopped, however, before making a decision, withdrawing behind his shields again as the steady pressure from earlier surged. Spock and Sarek hastily built up their defenses, making sure that their minds were safe from attack before checking yet again to see if their heart rates and breathing remained steady.  
  
“Um, did you sense something, Commander?” Lieutenant Sulu asked then, eyeing the way the pair of them had backed away from the tree. He adjusted his grip on his sword and knife, stepping forward and ready to defend Spock and Sarek should the tree limbs move suddenly. The others did the same, forming a protective ring around the two telepaths, hyper aware of the fact that if something happened to Sarek and Spock it was likely that they would be unable to communicate with the sentient beings of this planet and therefore would be unable to rescue their Captain. Furthermore, it would probably end poorly for them as well. Sulu couldn’t help grinding his teeth a little, wishing that there was something more that he could do, but he was as psi-null as any other human. He could therefore do nothing more than protect Spock and Sarek and hope for the best, and the notion sat poorly with him.  
  
Beside him, Nurse Chapel looked no less concerned, her phaser held close to her center of mass so she could point it in any direction necessary. She itched to step forward, to make sure that neither of them were giving off any strange readings, physiologically speaking.  
  
Nonetheless, Sulu and Chapel, as well as the security team, heeded Spock when the man spoke. “Yes,” The First Officer said shortly. “The sentience we felt earlier is getting stronger and is undoubtedly unconnected to the sentience present in these trees. It is the same thing that I felt when I last stood on this planet.”  
  
“Then shouldn’t we-” Sulu began, but was interrupted by a sight that made his eyes grow wide with amazement and fear. It was one thing to be informed, in a report, on a starship, far beyond the atmosphere that a tree moved.  
  
It was another thing entirely to _watch_ it.  
  
The tree began shuddering violently, leaves fluttering from the branches and falling to the ground. Sulu wasn’t the only one to let out a yell as they backed away from the tree; even Imari, who had seen this before reacted with surprise and let out a shrill little shout. Spock and Sarek didn’t move. They seemed to be frozen in place and Sulu darted forward, dropping his weapons so that he could tug on their clothing, trying to haul them away from the tree before a branch broke off and crushed them to pulp- the branches were certainly large enough to do so, even for one as strong as the Vulcans were.  
  
Spock and Sarek stepped back in exactly the same fashion, the same careful non-expression present on their faces. Something about their stance made Sulu hesitate for the briefest instant before he yanked on their arms even harder, trying to get them out of range of the tree. His mind supplied him with horrific images from that one old Harry Potter movie with that weird moving tree, and he swallowed. “We’ve got to get out of here!” Sulu shouted over the din. He wondered if the tree was trying to shake itself apart. It certainly sounded like it, at any rate.   
  
After a few seconds of wrestling with Spock and his father to get them out of range, Sulu found himself struggling to breathe, his attempts at moving the two Vulcans growing weaker. His head was beginning to pound it what felt like the worse migraine he’d ever experienced. There was a strange sort of pressure in his chest that was making it hard to inhale, and he felt a strange sense of panic that simultaneously seemed to belong to him as well as belong to someone else, like he was living it vicariously. He staggered underneath that strange feeling, his hands dropping away from Sarek and Spock so as to kneel on the ground, hands cradling his head. Around him, the others were falling to the ground too, faces waxy and covered in sweat. Sulu could see Olin out of the corner of his eye- the lieutenant had landed on his back, chest heaving as he fought for each breath.  
  
Spock had never even sensed Sulu’s grip, so focused was he on what was happening that he didn’t see the others fall, crushed by the same pressure that Spock fought to stand against. He closed his eyes once more, trying to bring stillness and calm to his internal landscape. There could be no doubt that this was the thing he’d sensed before on the planet; it had the same crushing strength, the same overwhelming pressure and emotion as before, spreading across the landscape like wildfire. Protected as he was this time around, neither Spock nor Sarek bowed beneath the feeling, instead delicately weaving their shields even tighter, protecting their minds to the fullest extent possible. The pressure eased off their minds, becoming solely a physical thing that made it hard to stand straight, or even breathe, despite the nanites flowing through their system.  
  
Spock fought to both shield himself and reach for his comm, but his concentration was split too deeply, the majority of it devoted to ensuring that his mind was not attacked. Sarek could do nothing to help, the strain on his own shield enough that he could not keep his own functioning as well as Spock‘s. The semi-meditative state was failing, for too much of his focus was on keeping the bond alive, patching up his mental shield and helping his father to do the same, making it impossible to divert the necessary attention to hailing Mr. Scott on the comm. He realized only now, dimly, that the others had fallen behind them, collapsing on the ground and fighting for each breath of air they took. Spock knew that he’d failed them, then, that he’d unwittingly led them into a situation which they were not in the least prepared for- that he was not in the least prepared for, despite his confident assumptions.  
  
Then a most peculiar thing happened.  
  
The tree…unwound.  
  
Spock could think of no other verb that would describe what happened before his eyes. The trunk, whose roots left the ground, twisted around its fellows to form the trunk and then parted again to from the curving branches, was now doing the opposite. Each branch detached itself from any entanglements it may have had and moved swiftly through the air in a clockwise motion, unraveling the trunk. The motion pulled apart the earth beneath it, revealing a gaping hole perhaps six meters across.  
  
With the tree’s unwinding, however, the pressure doubled, and then tripled. There was a strangled gasp from behind Spock, but he was unable to give the sound its due, unable to so much as flinch; he was too busy attempting to keep his mental shields from splintering. Emotions began leaking through the cracks, tearing at both Spock and Sarek’s control. Spock’s knees buckled abruptly and he sank to the ground, still fighting to keep his shields up. As powerful as the nanites were, they could not change Spock’s physiology, and as Spock’s shields faltered, then shattered completely, nothing in the world could have stopped his heart or breathing rate from picking up speed. Sulu and the members of Security fought against the pressure on their chests, the attack completely unexpected. They’d all believed that as psi-null creatures, they wouldn’t have to worry about being attacked. Sarek was the only one to remain standing, his greater experience the only thing that allowed him to protect himself so fully despite the attack that had felled everyone else in less than five minutes.  
  
Then, from that gaping hole in the ground, the tree limbs settling once more in a strange open-flower formation, four figures walked out.  
  
Sarek could not tell if they had a gender; there was no obvious genitalia. Or rather, if there was obvious genitalia, Sarek didn’t recognize it. They were tall beings, perhaps two meters in height, but theirs was a slender figure, with arms and legs a little too long, a little too thin to fit the proportions of most humanoids. All four had long, deep black curls that shone green under the bluish sun, pinned back somehow with the tiny white flowers he’d noticed in the trees earlier. There were no ears, on the sides of their faces, however, and he was forced to assume that the fleshy appendages on the top of their head served that purpose, because they twitched and swiveled as the last few leaves fell to the ground. Their skin held a bluish cast that verged towards purple, giving the appearance of bruises littering their skin, though Sarek could only assume it was their blood that gave their skin that color, much as the cupric in a Vulcan’s blood gave their skin a green cast.  
  
They faced him, almost as one, and tilted their heads to one side, blinking rapidly in the bright sun with their too-large eyes, with jade irises and pupils so small they could hardly be seen. In fact, Sarek hadn’t thought they had them at all, at first glance, but there was a delicate slit in the middle of their eyes that was reminiscent of that of a feline. Their clothing was in the same deep green shade as the highlights in their hair, a close fitting green tunic and lighter green vest, bound at the waist by a belt that Sarek suspected to be made from the pale gold bark that was on a majority of the trees. The clothing, while heavy, only accentuated every line of their willowy frames. They all wore pants, also close-cut, and their shoes looked to be made of bark as well, lacing up their calves.  
  
The one on the far left stepped forward, bringing its hands up and twining them around each other. At first, Sarek thought its hands were back to front, but he quickly realized that they simply had two sets of thumbs, one on each side of their hand, and four fingers. The way the being twisted its hands together also made Sarek suspect that they had an extra set of joints in their arms. The being tilted its head even further to the side and bowed oddly, shoulders back and chest forward. The being looked at one another, and what looked to be confusion flittered across their faces. They huddled close for a minute, chest to chest, shifting to face each other in a way that could only imply conversation. When they faced each other, the pressure slackened, and Sarek was able to breath more easily, building up the foundations to his mental walls. While the pressure had subsided, he stepped forward, slowly but surely, forcing himself to take each step forward, hoping that these creatures would not take it as an insult or as a threat.  
  
They paused in what they were doing, facing Sarek once more, and Sarek froze again, forced to strengthen his shields lest they buckle under the pressure and leave him as prone as his companions. The first creature stepped forward again, this time walking forward in a smooth even stride that made the speed deceptively fast. Sarek wanted to back away, avoid the creature’s touch, unsure as to what to do. That strange hand wrapped around his forearm as the creature pulled him forward. Sarek had no strength to prevent it from happening, trepidation rising in his throat. The grip was surprisingly light however, and if Sarek had been at his full strength, he would have been able to easily escape the alien’s grasp. Sarek wondered what the creature would do now, wondering what plans it had in mind.  
  
His fears were unfounded, however, as the being…hugged him.  
  
There was a moment of disconnect, a moment of sheer confusion and an inability to understand what had just happened.  
  
Then their chests came into full contact, and it was like a mind meld, but more, fuller. Contrary to popular belief, mental bonds and mind melds in the Vulcan race were more intellectual, less about emotion and more about the sharing of thoughts. The emotion was there, to be sure, but it was not the predominant part of a meld. It was only the deeper melds, to the subconscious or between bond-mates, for example, would result in the sharing of emotion, of the most intimate parts of each other’s katras, and it was a true blending of two souls.  
  
This was like that. The alien presence simply bore down through Sarek’s shields, and his mind automatically threw up barrier after barrier to try and protect itself from the powerful presence, but they made no difference. Sensing his distress, the creature backed off, no longer thundering in Sarek’s mind but merely shouting. It was easier to sense the emotions then, the anxiety, the confusion, the panic, the fear, the curiosity.  
  
“Hello?” Sarek said into that mindscape. He brought his hands up to the creature’s temples, strengthening his end of the mind meld and stabilizing it.  
  
“Hello?” returned the alien voice. It was a slow, sweet and mid-range voice, as androgynous as the creatures‘ bodies. “Oh, praise Aethra, I was beginning to think you were all mute! Or deaf. Perhaps both.” With the words, a surge of joy and thankfulness made Sarek breathless.  
  
“Excuse me, gentle being,” Sarek said in his most polite tone, mental voice straining. “Both my companions and I are not accustomed to speaking in such a fashion, and our physiologies are not suited to such an…emphatic way of speaking.”  
  
“Oh!” The being exclaimed, and a wave of guilt threatened to drown Sarek. “Oh.” it said a second time, and this time the mental voice was much quieter, as was the wave of guilt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. Is this quiet enough?”  
  
“Yes, gentle being. And if your companions could do the same, my companions would appreciate it.” Sarek found himself calming, more comfortable now that he had some control over the direction of the conversation, some way of communicating with the alien currently pressed against him.  
  
“Oh, of course, of course,” the creature reassured him. There was the strangest feeling that the alien then left the mind meld for a brief second before returning, as if they had stepped into another room to answer a question. Sarek was unnerved by it; when in a mind meld, it was not possible for a Vulcan to simply ‘step away for a moment’. A Vulcan was either in the mind meld, or they were not. There was no in-between. “There, that should be better.”  
  
“Thank you,” Sarek said cordially, drawing on his best manners so as not to offend.  
  
There was the sense of a liquid shrug, and a polite dismissal ran across Sarek’s senses without a single word being said. Sarek, unused to sharing such emotions directly, struggled to send some of his thanks back. Despite his meager effort, a pleased feeling that didn’t belong to him filled him.  
  
“I am Veda,” the being said. “Veda Amista of Nu’a. It is my pleasure to meet you.” As before, a wave of joy swelled in Sarek, not belonging to him but warming him all the same. “My friends are Aditi and Sayam Demanan of Nu’a, and Nilam Ge of Nu’a.” There was a softer wave of inquisition, indicating that Sarek should share who he was as well.  
  
“I am S'chn T'gai Sarek of the planet Vulcan. My companions are S'chn T'gai Spock of Vulcan-”  
  
“Your child?” There was a wave of transcendent joy that crashed over Sarek, and he was taken aback that this creature had realized their relation without having to say a word. True, from their names it wouldn‘t be hard to discover the connection, but there was a certainty in Veda‘s voice, indicating that it hadn‘t been a guess. Sarek began wondering if the meld was even deeper than he realized. “You are greatly blessed by Aethra!” Sarek had to lean away from the contact, dazed by the second bought of joy that filled his mind. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Veda said, a soft remorse trickling through. “Your species is quite sensitive.”  
  
“Indeed,” Sarek said blandly. It was a matter that could be debated, but now was not the time or place. It was a close enough description in this particular situation. “In addition to my son, Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu of Earth, Nurse Christine Chapel of Earth, Lieutenant Gregory Olin of Earth, Lieutenant Indi Imari of Glom, Lieutenant Kktch of Klim’mnandzaerbikik and Lieutenant Commander Giles Jefferson of Mars.”  
  
“You are not from the same clan?” An image was associated with the last word, an image of closeness and togetherness, of being not the same but fitting together in a way that felt pleasant. It was not quite a family unit, but nor did it encompass the entirety of a planet.  
  
“Not as such,” Sarek agreed. “I am an Ambassador from Vulcan, headed to Earth to continue good relations between our peoples. As for the others, they are members of a starship that is currently in orbit. They are explorers, they are interested in learning more about this universe and its inhabitants.” Sarek fumbled, trying to make Veda understand the Federation’s goal, the idea of IDIC using images as she had.  
  
“I see,” Veda said, and Sarek instantly got the sense that she- for Sarek couldn’t not help but think of her as a female, though there was no indication of this actually being the case- did, for her understanding washed over him. It was a little disorienting; he was used to keeping tight control of his emotions, but the constant exposure to Veda’s feeling was wearing his defenses down, especially because they were so close mentally. “I find that positively fascinating- I hadn‘t known that they‘d finally made a group. It’s been so long since we’ve bothered to go off planet- seven thousand years, perhaps? When we last traveled through the stars there were no species we found with the same technology as us, and we feared that we would never find a species that had left their planet. How very, very, interesting- that is something to explore.”  
  
“I believe you would be able to teach us much, Veda, and I hope that we can do the same for you. But that, perhaps, is a topic for another time. As much as I would like to share our culture with you, and yours with me, we are here because of a pressing matter,” Sarek said solemnly. However, before he could continue, Veda pressed forward, rooting around in his mind and his _katra_ with no regard for his privacy. She took the knowledge of why they were there, who Captain Kirk was, why Sarek wished to honor him, of his wife‘s death, of his son‘s birth- she took that and more, looking through his mind and spirit with a cursory air, as if she had a right to do so. She even investigated things such as verbal speech instead of mental, the things Sarek learned at the Science Academy and the different planets he’d visited, glancing at them with a sort of genial curiosity. Anger, the strongest anger he’d felt since his planet had been destroyed and his beloved wife killed surged through him, knocking Veda back until there was only the most tenuous of threads linking them still.  
  
Wrapping his battered mind around his soul like a cloak, hiding it from view, he thundered, “Do not do that again, please. It is not acceptable behavior.” He fought to regain his control, to remind himself that Veda had no way of knowing the offense she had dealt him.  
  
There were a few warily moments where both minds regarded the other cautiously, as though they weren’t sure what to expect next. “I have displeased you,” Veda said, and this time, she tried to mimic the way Sarek spoke, using words instead of images and emotions to communicate.  
  
Sarek relented a little at that, explaining, “In my culture, such knowledge of another’s self can only be given, not taken.”  
  
Veda hesitated, then said, “We have no barriers such as that. Once we did, many thousands of years ago, but since then we are a peaceful people, and have no reason to prohibit another’s entrance. I shall not do that again, however, if it displeases you so.”  
  
Both the Nu’a and the Vulcan relaxed slightly, accepting the other’s apologies.  
  
“Fear not, however,” there was a blaze of embarrassment in Veda’s mind over what she‘d done, but it ebbed as she maintained her distance, using words instead of the images and emotions. “The man in your thoughts, the one you call Captain Kirk? He is here, with us. We found him outside of one of the _mirtha_ -” here there was an image of a tree of pale gold bark with amethyst and sapphire foliage, and an undercurrent of acknowledgement that this was a species that was beginning to awaken, beginning to become more than it was, a fact that greatly pleased Veda, “-and stabilized him. He…” Veda let out a mental sigh of frustration. “This manner of speech takes so long. May I…may I impart the knowledge to you? I will plant the seed of knowing in your mind- I will not need to touch your… _katra_.” She stumbled over the unfamiliar word, but she was earnest in her request.  
  
It sounded not unlike the knowledge transfer Vulcans were able to do, so he agreed with some caution, advising her to go slowly. Veda did so, beginning at a snail’s pace, and then more quickly as Sarek did not fight it, discovering that it was indeed very much like a knowledge transfer. As though he were an invisible observer, Sarek watched as Veda and the others left their _mirtha_ and came across Captain Kirk. They did not know who he was or why he was there, but he was clearly in distress, breathing and heart too fast to be good. Though they had little knowledge of the alien’s physiology, they could not leave him to die. Therefore, they had brought him down to the tunnels- and here, Sarek had to marvel privately because the Nu’a lived underground in cities that were kilometers deep, reaching towards the mantle; they spread across the entire planet, even under the oceans- and given him to the care of a healer.   
  
The healer had run scans, done tests, and though the vitals seemed to no longer be causing him distress, he had not yet awoken, so the healer had done a- Sarek had no word for it, because it was something that had never been done. It was completely outside his realm of knowledge. The way Veda described it, it was like a meld, but not to see if there was something wrong with the consciousness of the other person. She called it a _shithra-kaivane_ , the Self-Knowledge. The goal of the _shithra-kaivane_ was to pick a moment that defined a person and make them relive it, to remind them of who and what they were on their deepest levels. The healer set it in motion by bringing the memory and emotions associated with the event forwards and then removed themselves from the patient’s mind, allowing them to use the memory as a stepping stone back to reality. However, the healer that had been working with Kirk had not been able to remove himself from the _shithra-kaivane_ , and none of the work that any other Nu’a had done had been of any help to figure out what was wrong. They hadn’t dared to send another Nu’a after the healer, Kavi, for they had no idea what would happen.  
  
Sarek let out a long sigh when the transfer was complete. His head felt overstuffed, not only with the knowledge that had been given to him in a thought’s span of time, but because of the deep, rich emotions that had been associated with every second of Veda’s memories. “I must share this with the others,” he informed her.  
  
There was a sense of agreement from Veda as she said, “Of course. I too wish to tell my friends what has occurred.”  
  
Veda pulled away, as did Sarek, and reality reasserted itself.  
  
Sarek breathed for a few moments, getting his bearings and using years of meditation to sort his feelings, thoughts, and the transferred knowledge received in the meld within a minute’s time. By that time, Veda was back with her friends, chests all pressed against each other as Veda shared what she had learned from Sarek.  
  
“Father?” That was Spock, looking ill, but unharmed, pushing himself back to his feet, rubbing at his head, a surefire sign that Spock was suffering from a headache. The others were mostly in the same state, disoriented, confused and nauseous, but not permanently injured in any way. Sarek gathered them together, explaining what had happened, that it had been the way the Nu’a communicated, by sending out emotions and images to one another that had so debilitated them. It had been intense and strong enough that it passed through to even the psi-null species. In a quiet, measured tone, he revealed what had happened to the Captain of the Enterprise- not a kidnapping, as they had feared, but a rescue gone awry, as the Nu’a hadn’t realized that Captain Kirk belonged to anyone; to them, he had simply appeared, to all intents and purposes dropped from the sky, since by then the others had been beamed away. Sarek spoke of what the Nu’a had done to help, and the inadvertent result of their goodwill.  
  
They kept up a constant litany of questions, asking for as many details as Sarek knew, trying to better understand the situation. Just the fact that their Captain was still alive and unharmed, however, brightened their faces, making them sigh in relief that the man was not being kept hostage, not being tortured or used for any other purposes. When they had exhausted all possible knowledge, Spock alerted the Enterprise to the state of affairs, and the entire thing was discussed for a second time, as Doctor McCoy got on the comm and asked question after question about Captain Kirk‘s state of health. He’d all but demanded to be allowed to come down despite the fact that he was CMO, but Spock was able to persuade the man that he would be of no help; it was not the Captain’s physical wellbeing that was at stake, but his mental. The doctor had grumbled that the two weren’t independent, but his requests to come planetside subsided into obligatory demands that weren’t said with quite as much force.  
  
After nearly an hour and a half of communication, which involved both Spock and Sarek melding with the Nu’a twice each in order to get more details, ironing out how they would handle the situation, they had finally settled on a plan that would suit everyone. Spock as about to meld for a third time, to confirm what they would be doing when Veda held her hands and said in a weak, papery, and strangely monotone voice, “What do you wish to know?” in Federation Standard. Everyone had gasped at that, but in the strange, halting voice, Veda explained, “The Nu’a once spoke with our voices. It has been hundreds of hundreds of years since we have done so, but we do not lack that skill yet. Besides, if we are to negotiate, we must be able to communicate in the easiest way for all parties. It takes much time to become one and then separate, only to speak the knowledge. It will be better if I talk.”  
  
“But you’re speaking Federation Standard,” Sulu said blankly, looking confounded by the turn of events. Veda’s jade eyes flickered to Sarek, and he knew that she had gained a practical understanding of Federation Standard through the meld, and like Sarek had suspected, she had gained all the knowledge that he had, she had an understanding of his _katra_ in a way none but Amanda had previously. He was not comfortable with it, but what was done could not be undone.  
  
“Sarek gifted it to me,” she said, and her face was sad, apology written in every line of that lithe body.  
  
“A gift,” Sarek agreed, inclining his head, and Veda’s worried expression softened a little, and she bowed to him a little in another apology.  
  
And thus negotiations continued, with Veda acting as the intermediate party so that every person would be able to understand what was going on, without having to translate it from mental and emotional speech to verbal. This sped up conversation considerably. It was concluded then, that due to the fact that they were still on a schedule in order to get to Earth, they would do what was necessary to bring Captain Kirk back to consciousness and take him back on board; the Nu’a had been warp capable for longer than some species in the Federation had been sentient, and Spock promised to report their findings and have an envoy sent to the planet as soon as possible, to begin trading information and culture, so as to gain a greater understanding of each other.  
  
When the negotiations had been straightened out, Veda led Spock, Sarek and the others towards the middle of the _mirtha_ , where the open ground gaped. As they walked to the opening, Spock realized that there was a set of steps in the middle of the hole, winding down into the ground. As they walked, Veda explained everything around them, her strange thin voice giving the phrases an odd cadence, as she only had a technical understanding of the language‘s words and grammar. She knew what Sarek associated with which words, but she had only his understanding, not her own, and she phrased certain sentences oddly as a result.  
  
“The city below resides, and has been there for a millennia and more. We are not suited to the sun, our _sionale_ , for ours eyes need light with which to see.” Veda shook her head, unsatisfied with that explanation. “No, in the dark we…we see well in the dark, but too much sun is blinding to our minds. We are suited to darker places, to our underground homes.” As they reached the bottom of the winding staircase, the tree shuddered once more and closed again, encasing them in darkness. The Starfleet officers and Sarek, who were not accustomed to such pitch blackness, were glad when a moment after the tree had closed, dim blue lamps slowly lit up the hallway. It was not nearly as bright as natural light, but it was light enough that Spock and the others were able to follow their hosts through the downward sloping tunnels without falling and breaking something.  
  
As they traveled, Veda spoke of how the tunnels had been made, of their city, of their people, of anything that came to mind, working to ease the relations between their peoples, despite the strange start they had. It was a long travel, two hours, sixteen minutes and forty seconds by Spock’s count before they reached the an intersection at which Veda paused. The tunnels had branched off before, of course, but this was the first time Veda had stopped. One of the Nu’a with her, departed with a wave. “Aditi goes to tell the Council of what transpired. She…he…” there was a moment were Veda couldn’t tell which gender to use, since neither sufficed and finally she settled on saying, “Aditi will also message the healer to tell them that our guest’s allies are coming. It is very likely that our Council, or at least some of the Council, will wish to met you. They are elected every hundred years to serve the people, and are the oldest and wisest of us, and will be curious to meet our guests. It has been too long since we have met another species that is…” she fumbled with the word, “warp capable. We call it…” she fumbled again, then said, “ _shiva-dir_. The sky-reachers.”  
  
“We would appreciate the opportunity to meet your Council,” Spock said smoothly. Though his words were true, he had no interest in meeting them until after they’d seen that the Captain was alive and well, relatively speaking. Since the moment it had been determined that they would not have to fight tooth and nail for Captain Kirk, Spock had wanted nothing more than to rush off to see the Captain, instead of filling more mundane duties such as alerting the Enterprise as to the situation and speaking diplomatically with their hosts. Spock did not wish to acknowledge his fear, but it still existed- fear that Captain Kirk would somehow become less than what he was because of the mental touch of the Nu’a. He could only think of their crushing presence before they had learned how to speak with the members of the starship. What damage had they wrought in their ‘help’? It pained Spock to think ill of such well meaning and kind peoples, but Spock would rather die than risk Captain Kirk’s brilliance, his laughter, his joy and unparalleled intuition faltering.  
  
He would do whatever necessary to get his Captain- Jim- back.  
  
It was perhaps another twenty minutes before they reached the medical center where Captain Kirk was being treated. There was an enormous crowd of Nu’a present, and Spock felt that now familiar pressure on his body until Veda stepped forward, communicating in the silent fashion they favored, and the pressure eased off into the barest mental touch. Veda walked among them, pressed her body against the others, sharing her knowledge and what had transpired before returning to the crew of the Enterprise. “They are all healers,” she told them, gesturing with one hand. “They were all working to see if they could somehow aid Kavi, the healer, and your Cap-tain.” She sounded the last word out slowly, as if tasting its meaning as it left her mouth.  
  
Then she darted off for more explanations, as did her companions, leaving the Enterprise crew at loose ends, which Spock disliked immensely. Sarek put a hand on his shoulder, and Spock almost balked at the implicit command to calm himself. He knew there was wisdom in his father’s suggestion, however, and so he nodded, closing his eyes briefly in order to compose himself.  
  
Veda made her way back over. “I am sorry for the delay,” she reported, face worried. “I know that you have other matters to attend to and must be leaving soon, but Su’hir will not let me into the facility until Rach’na gets here. Rach’na is head of the Council.” To distract them from the fact that it would be even longer before they were able to gain access to their Captain, she explained in detail what they’d done to Captain Kirk to ease his physiological pain, hoping this would reassure them. They had given him no drugs or treatment, as they were unsure as to what effect they would have, but they’d made sure he rested in bed, away from the attention of others and got the appropriate nutrients. “We scanned him to make sure that he also used glucose as a basic form of energy, but we did not dare give him more sustenance than that.” Veda turned worried eyes to Nurse Chapel, who reassured her that the medical personnel had done well, considering that they’d never seen a human before and had no idea as to their physiology or the like, but everyone could tell that Chapel wouldn‘t be satisfied until she‘d seen Captain Kirk for herself.  
  
Another ten minutes of conversation passed, and Spock found it more and more difficult to remain patient, not when his Captain was on the other side of the wall. Just as he was about to demand entry anyways, another Nu’a appeared from down the hallway, rushing towards them. Instead of the deep black of Veda and the others that Spock had seen, Rach’na’s hair was pure white, pinned back with red flowers, not white. As the others before her, Rach’na communed with Veda before turning to her guests.  
  
“I am sorry for the lateness,” she gasped, obviously still fighting for breath from her apparent run to the facility. “This has not been an easy situation for any of us, nor a normal one, I dare say.” Rach’na’s cadence and voice was smoother than that of Veda, as if she had more practice or understanding of the vocal language, which made Spock raise his eyebrows. “I would dearly wish to know more about you all, but I understand you must be on your way- you shall have to return, I suppose, that we might become better friends.” Rach’na turned towards the door, which opened before her. She strode through without hesitation, and the others followed her.  
  
Rach’na spoke rapidly as she walked, long steps forcing the others to nearly jog to keep up with her. She spoke of the goodwill between their peoples, of diversity, of the Nu’a and more, expressing the same apology as Veda for the inadvertent kidnapping of their Captain. She assured them at least four times that no offense had been meant, to which Spock had been forced to reply than none had been taken. Truly, no offense had been taken, but it was hard to concentrate on Rach’na’s words when the status of Captain Kirk was still so unsure.  
  
“Here,” Rach’na said abruptly, and she swung around to face one door of many. It opened before her, as the previous door had, and it was all Spock could do to resist pushing past her and into the room.  
  
Captain Kirk lay on a bed not unlike the biobeds on the Enterprise. Scans were reported on a screen in one wall, reporting everything from his heart and breathing rate to the status of his muscles and bones. Captain Kirk was stretched out on the bed but with a pillow and blanket covering him; his breathing was smooth and even, his face still. Across him lay a Nu’a, their chests pressed together; the Nu’a had clearly not been expecting to be locked into the mind-touch, for the medic sprawled across the man in a haphazard way. Nurse Chapel pushed passed them all, and took reading after reading until Spock believe he might burst with the anticipation.  
  
“He’s alright,” she reported, and every person in the room loosed a sigh of relief, glad beyond words that their Captain was unharmed.  
  
And thus yet another round of discussions began. Spock’s first instinct was to take the Captain back to the Enterprise come hell or high water, but he quashed the impulse, knowing it was completely impractical, for reasons that were many and varied, such as the fact that if they did so, though would have to bring the healer, Kavi, along with them, for until the bond between them was broken, forcibly removing either of them could have unwarranted side effects. Eventually it was settled, however, that both Spock and Veda would work together to bring the pair back to consciousness, since Spock was a friend of the Captain’s, and Veda was one of Kavi’s bond-mates; it was everyone‘s hope that by using people that were close to both Kavi and Captain Kirk, the separation and restoration of consciousness would be easier. Of course, before the meld could take place, a whole host of things needed to be done, such as bringing in medics to monitor the situation and allowing Veda to prepare her mind and body for the touch.  
  
Spock tried not to begrudge Veda her preparation, but it was hard. Everyone in the room, Rach’na included, was waiting with baited breath to see if they could separate the two minds. Their peoples and cultures and physiologies were so different that no one could predict the outcome of the Nu’a’s rescue of Captain Kirk. They distracted themselves in different ways. Nurse Chapel made a study of the Nu’a’s advanced technology, asking constant questions so as to better understand what was going on. Lieutenant Sulu and the members of Security subtly made sure their weapons were at the ready should things suddenly go south. Rach’na and Sarek engaged in diplomatic conversation learning all they could about one another in the short time they had.  
  
Spock worked to keep calm, to remain centered in all possible ways. He tried to set aside the strangeness of the situation; instead of coming in to save their Captain from terrible kidnappers, they’d encountered a new species with a completely unique way of thinking and communicating who had inadvertently rescued Captain Kirk only to endanger him in a way that Spock had never seen coming. The day had been taxing in too many fashions to name, and had been far stranger than he could articulate.  
  
He simply wanted his Captain where he belonged, on the Enterprise.  
  
The thought made him feel surprisingly warm. On the Enterprise, with Mr. Sulu and Mr. Chekov and Nyota and Mr. Scott and Doctor McCoy and Lieutenant Ithki and the others that had somehow managed to accept Spock, with Captain Kirk at the helm, giving their lives a purpose and joy and a sense of family that they hadn’t had before.  
  
“Spock?”  
  
All motion stopped as all heads turned to the nervous Veda, who stood near Kavi’s slumped form, hands twisting around themselves in a dizzying pattern. “I am ready.”  
  
Spock nodded, coming to stand next to Jim, bringing a hand and pressing it against the other man’s temple, but not yet enacting the meld. Veda came to stand beside Kavi, pressing her chest against Kavi’s back and closing her eyes, indicating her readiness. Spock gave a short nod. As soon as he could feel Veda make her way into Kavi’s mind, Spock did the same for Jim, praying that he wasn‘t too late.  
  
Not another minute passed before Veda, Kavi, Rach’na, the medics and what seemed to be every other Nu’a on the planet began shrieking their agony.


	12. We'll Have the Days We Break

Theft.  
  
The bark of the one of the local trees- Jimmy didn’t know what it was called, because he hadn’t cared much for botany even before Tarsus IV- made an excellent black sludge when it was boiled. His brown-blond hair and bright blue eyes were too distinctive, Jimmy knew, for him to pass himself as belonging to the city, he needed to disguise himself. His skin, tanned from so many hours out in the sun even if it was approaching winter, was a start, but he needed a more drastic change. The sludge made from tree bark worked as a dye, turning Jimmy’s normally blond hair to a brown black that made him look faintly Spanish, were it not for his brilliant blue eyes.  
  
It was disguise enough, however, that went he took to thievery, he was never caught.  
  
It was less dangerous at first; at night he would stake out a house to figure out which ones were still occupied and which were not. Each house that was determined to be unoccupied was raided for anything and everything Jimmy could think of, from blankets to pillows to cups and the occasional food stamp that had been missed by other greedy eyes. It was easy enough that Jimmy hardly considered it to be stealing, simply scavenging what had already been abandoned or left behind after Kodos the Executioner took away the family that usually inhabited the dwelling.  
  
Not even a month passed, however, before that option was no longer viable; every house in the entire city had been ransacked, every last usable item adopted. It made Jimmy’s heart ache to see those buildings without plates or cups, without blankets or clothing or furniture, yet to still have picture frames holding holo pictures on the walls, to see those truly personal items all alone in a room from which even the books and children’s toys had been taken. It gave the entire house a sort of sad desperation, not unlike a dog who is wondering where its master had gone.  
  
Jimmy was nothing if not resourceful, however, and it wasn’t long before he was raiding the homes of people who still lived there. He tried to be careful to pick the homes of those who treated their fellow citizens poorly, those who relied on Kodos for favors, and those who encouraged the guards to intimidate those around them into bending to their will. He would enter the house, using his expertise in technology to bypass any security measures. He took what he desired, most often food stamps, but occasionally small trinkets that he thought might please the children that he protected: books and games, mostly. He tried not to take anything that might belong to a young child, for they were innocent of their parent’s behavior and it would be the height of unkindness to steal a favorite stuffed animal when they had nothing to do with their father’s or mother’s misdeeds.  
  
Even that didn’t yield regular results, however, for many a person turned to stealing, that they might gain an extra food stamp or two to feed themselves or their families. It became a risky proposition, for not only did the security increase, but with so many other thieves, it became difficult to find a house that had not been robbed before and that did not have thieves already working on robbing it.  
  
It forced Jimmy to turn to the most blatant kind of thievery, and the most dangerous because it was the one most likely to get him caught and killed: pick pocketing. His targets were the same as those whose houses he’d stolen from; the wealthy, the ones whose heavy influence over Kodos resulted in the rest of the people being that much more poorly treated. He thanked his juvenile fury that had made him hone that very skill in an effort to fuck with Frank at every opportunity.  
  
Anything that was in a person’s pockets was fair game, though Jimmy did his best to focus on collecting food stamps and cash, so that he might have a little something extra to make the guard overlook that a kid was waiting in line for food. Sure, he wasn’t the only kid, but most of them were older, a little less scrawny and wary than he was; the others hadn’t been exposed to the full harshness of what a famine meant, and it showed in their faces, their eyes. Jimmy had been scarred by the murder of his friends, of the fact that he’d seen Kodos give a speech to four thousand innocents in the name of ‘the good of all’. He knew how to hate, how to curse the gods, and it showed in every line of his body.  
  
The hardest part was concealing where the food came from. With the exception of Big J, Jimmy knew that they idolized him, that for some reason they believed he would save them all, and that absolute confidence was impossible to betray. So he never dared to speak of how he’d stolen from other hungry mouths, from men and women and children whose greatest sin was marrying or being related to a man or woman in Kodos’s pay. Instead, he worked to make it sound as though he’d all but taken it from Kodos’s table in revenge, instilling his tales with a healthy sense of adventure and close calls, to entertain the others when nothing else could distract them.  
  
That made for good stories, of course, but they were stories only, and Jimmy suspected that sometimes they weren’t good enough. Savik, sometimes, or Karrin, or any of the others would look at him sometimes, just a little too long, just a little too worried, knowing the risk he took on their behalf, in this world where stealing the food from the wrong mouth could result in death. He would try and reassure them, and because no one wanted to address the pink elephant in the room, they nodded and smiled and acted like they believed him.  
  
It scared him, a little, how thankful he was for that.  
  


~*~

Fighting.

When famine is present, depravity cannot help but rise. Drugs became a common substitute for food; after all, if one was high or stoned, hunger usually took a backseat, and that was to be looked upon as a most blessed miracle. Alcohol was considered to be one of the greatest drinks, and drunkards could be found every night, wandering the city, throwing rocks through abandoned buildings, caterwauling their displeasure to the stars. Gambling could be found across the city, with food stamps as the stakes, where winning could mean an extra meal for a family, and losing could mean death by starvation. People played anyways, all in the name of ‘distasteful but necessary risk’. Jimmy wasn’t fooled for a moment- their eyes were too bright, too hungry as they watched the game boards.

Despite his dislike of it all, Jimmy joined the depravity with nary a second glance. If it would save him and his friends, then it was not depravity, not for him- it was necessary, crucial even, for their continued existence. It made him wonder if one day he too, would gamble on chance in the hopes of another meal; the idea that he might lose everything he worked for in one hand made the prospect distasteful.

So instead, he fought.

He thought it apt, that he did not turn to drugs or alcohol or gambling or one of the million other vices that were slowly becoming available on Tarsus IV. Fighting could be won on a person’s own merits, and in fighting, there were far fewer attempts to cheat the system. After all, why throw a match and split the profit with another, when by fighting tooth and nail, by using every resource you had, you could win and not have to share your prize with another soul? People were greedy enough these days that it was every man, woman and child for themselves.

Scrawny women, limbs thin and trembling from malnutrition would beat a teenaged boy until they lay unconscious. Children, perhaps ten years of age- fifteen, at the most- would do battle, because their families had either perished in the fighting and rioting or had been killed afterwards, perhaps. Men with a dark gleam in their eye would overpower anyone and anything that stood in their way, using their mass to swamp the strength of a younger and less experienced fighter.

Jimmy fought against all of them.

He didn’t win, especially not at first. Schoolyard fighting didn’t hold a candle to this no-holds barred style of fighting in which anything that was possible to do was allowed. It was a dangerous struggle, every match, for more than one opponent believed that a dead enemy was better than an unconscious one; it would mean that much less competition in the future, when things got even worse. Jimmy learned to defend himself, protecting the flesh of his abdomen from blows that would keep him from breathing for minutes on end. He learned to grease the loose tangles of his hair so that they wouldn’t provide a grip. He learned to fend off more dangerous blows and how to take weaker ones, how to roll with an attack so that the least amount of damage was sustained. Each scrap of knowledge was hard fought for, each new lesson meaning that Jimmy was that much less likely to die in the next fight.

He came back to their cave with bruises, with dripping wounds and splitting headaches that left him unable to so much as breathe too loudly because of the pain. Big J did what he could to help him, but they weren’t exactly equipped with medicine, and even the worst of the aches had to be ignored in favor of doing what needed to be done. Jimmy hated the way the marks made Big J look, the way his mouth would go tight and pinched, the way his eyes would shutter so that Jimmy couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It became simpler not to complain about the beatings and to do what he could to hide what was being done to him, because then it meant that Big J wouldn’t worry over him as much, wouldn’t stress over the fact that there wasn’t anything to be done over a chipped bone, a nearly dislocated shoulder.

Jimmy wondered what it would be like, to really throw a punch and not run the risk of dying at the end of the fight. It seemed to be a foreign concept at times, though he knew that people practiced it, like in martial arts and other, more alien styles of fighting. Jimmy couldn’t picture it though. Every time he so much as breathed in that ring, it was with the knowledge that this could be his last fight, that his opponent would go a little too far- and really, who would stop them? The fighting was not only a gamble for the fighters themselves, but for the betters. Of course people were as likely to bet on death as an outcome of the match as any other possibility. In the hell that Tarsus IV had become, Jimmy expected no different.

Jimmy had worked for a month, fighting almost daily before he’d won the competition for the first time. Twelve rounds straight he’d gone, fighting those scrawny women and measly children and men who thought their bigger frame would result in more victories. Jimmy proved them all wrong, fighting tooth and nail against them, unafraid of attacking any sensitive spot he could get his hands on, willing to go to any lengths in order to reach his goal.

Still, he couldn’t help but ponder sometimes what it would be like to fight with someone who meant you no harm, before dismissing the idea as ridiculous.

~*~

Prostitution.

Jimmy didn’t want to do it.

It frightened him more than almost anything else. It was wrong, on so many levels, and the mere idea of it grated against already scraped and battered nerves.

He’d resisted for as long as he could, for surely no one could expect it of him. He’d said that he’d do anything, everything, to keep them safe, but Jimmy hadn’t understood the scope or scale of the statement, had been unable to foresee what exactly would come to pass. Surely there were some things that weren’t even to be considered, weren’t to be thought of seriously because they were unacceptable. He’d somehow thought- hoped, really, and it had been a paltry hope at that- that somehow they’d be rescued, that Starfleet would magically come to their aid and make everything better, save everyone left on that planet and cart them off to their homes.

But Tarsus IV wasn’t a fairytale. Never had been, never would be. After all, three months had passed since they’d sent the message off to Starfleet and Jimmy hadn’t even heard if they’d responded to their plea for help. Jimmy wouldn’t have been surprised if they hadn’t; what was another famine in a universe and history plagued with a million of them? Kodos’s response wasn’t even that unique, except for the fact that eugenics hadn’t been practiced for the better part of five centuries. Perhaps the novelty of it all, Jimmy often thought sardonically, would make the history books. Jimmy hated Starfleet in those moments even more than he had previously; not only had they destroyed his entire family, but they were also the ones that were subjecting the people of Tarsus IV to a slow death.

This was…this was just a new level of horror to the situation, nothing special, nothing to dwell over.

Yet Jimmy did, he debated and worried and considered the matter for hours on end, unable to come to a conclusion. It wasn’t a question of being able to find someone- Jimmy had been propositioned to before, once or twice, and he’d been unable to stop his horror, his disgust at how he couldn’t even comprehend why someone would want to do that. The looks followed him, however, leering and lusty, especially after he’d fought and he was covered with sweat, his knuckles bloody and bruised, his body littered with the marks from his opponent. Sure, he wasn’t the only one that got stared at, but he was perhaps the most often, with his sun streaked hair and baby blues.

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like, to willingly hand himself over to another for sex. That was the crux of the matter. He was thirteen- boys and girls were just beginning to make his heart beat faster. Or at least, they had been, before he’d come to Tarsus IV, before he‘d realized that no matter how civilized a culture claimed to be, disasters could still bring out the worst in people, twisting them into something unrecognizable. In a way, Jimmy didn’t blame them, _couldn’t_ blame them, because he thought that sometimes he was getting to be as twisted and fucked up as anyone else here. After all, Tarsus IV didn’t leave a whole lot of room for love- if you loved too much these days, it was liable to get you killed.

He wondered for a long time what it would be like, sickly fascinated by the concept, not unlike being unable to look away from a train wreck. The idea of another putting their hands on him repulsed him, the mere thought making him want to grow faint, but the worry that he might have to go to such lengths to keep his friends safe weighed heavily on his mind. Nearly three months passed since the first of the riots on Tarsus IV before he realized that he might have to sell his body for that extra mouthful of food. It was a stark realization, reached one night like any other when he’d come back home from the city and Gail had been lying on the ground, too pale, too thin. He looked at Gabriel’s wan face, the glasses he’d managed to keep despite everything making his eyes look far too large for such a narrow face. Savik’s trembling limbs, Karrin and O’las constant weariness and headaches, the sad look Harry had on his face when he realized that there was no more food to be had, but his stomach still cried out for sustenance. Worst of all, in a way, was Big J. Big J, who had seemed so strong and serene and powerful since the day that Jimmy had met him now lacked those qualities. There was a frailty about him that scared Jimmy more than anything else, because Big J was older and wiser and he wasn’t supposed to die.

 _Just like Ebenezer wasn’t supposed to die_? His mind whispered traitorously. Jimmy tried to push the thought out of his head, tried to pretend that it hadn’t crossed his mind, but it lurked just out of range of conscious thought, plaguing his waking and dreaming self with a white hot guilt that made a lump grow in his throat, his eyes stinging alarmingly. As much as he wished it, he couldn’t help but see the truth, couldn’t help but acknowledge what had been happening before his eyes for many a month.

His friends were dying.

In the face of all that, there was nothing he could do. The animals of this planet were dead or dying, their food sources growing thin, and the plants themselves had all but disappeared in the emergence of winter. Jimmy fought for more food stamps, fought and stole as many as he could, but even they weren’t stretching as far as was necessary to keep everyone alive; with every week that passed, a single food stamp was worth less and less as Kodos the Executioner tried to stretch the supplies as far as possible, for the few scientists still left alive weren’t making as much progress as anyone could have hoped.

Big J had tried, really and truly tried never to bother him about how much food was brought back to their little cave. He knew that Jimmy was doing his best, putting his life on the line, doing whatever was necessary to help; it made Big J feel guilty, but he didn’t have the skills that Ebenezer had taught Jimmy, and Jimmy didn’t have the time to teach him what to do while also bringing in food and making sure that the younger kids stayed out of trouble and survived.

Jimmy recognized the struggle every time he spoke with Big J, every time he sat in the older boy’s presence. He did what he could to bring in more food, relaxing a little when that extra mouthful made the pinched look around Big J’s mouth ease a little. However, as everything grew scarcer, Jimmy knew that he wasn’t bringing enough food back, knew it better than he knew his own name. He realized that something was going to have to give, that things would have to change in a way so intrinsic to Jimmy’s view of himself that he couldn’t bear to face it head on.

So when he went into the city the following day and did what was necessary, he thought of the stars and what was out there, what had called his parents to them. He thought of his father’s death, of his mother‘s life. He thought of Riverside, the dusty ground so different to the once lush ground of Tarsus IV, and thought about the lives he’d led in both places. He thought about love and hate and tried to wax philosophical about tears.

He thought about the promise to Ebenezer’s body.

He thought about everything, because anything was better than reality.

~*~

Cannibalism.  
  
Everyone still left alive on the godforsaken planet had wondered at one point or another what it would be like to take the flesh from the dead, to cook it and use it for sustenance, Jimmy knew. They wondered what the flesh would taste like, would smell like, if it would even be possible to stomach the fact that they would be eating neighbors, children, friends.  
  
They called it the Boneyard, because nothing else sufficed to describe the horror of the scene. They did not call it a graveyard, because there were no graves to be had- instead, the dead had been dumped on the ground to the west of the city and left there in the open to rot. Four thousand stinking corpses on the outskirts of the city, the smell of their disintegrating flesh enough to turn even the most hardened stomach. This planet, like so many others, had carrion eaters, and they feasted on the banquet that Kodos the Executioner had provided for them. There might have been people willing to eat the flesh, but none were quite hungry enough during the first weeks to fight off the carrion eaters and harvest the meat for themselves. By the time they _were_ hungry enough, the meat had been poisoned by maggots, by defecation and urine from the carrion eaters, the flesh itself practically melting off their bodies until the bones were the only things left. No one was crazy enough to think that there was anything edible in the mass of tissue that had been left out under the sun for week after week.  
  
They dumped the fresher bodies there too, the bodies of the people who were dead or might as well be. They’d found Harry there the very first week, Gail the following and brought them back to their hideaway. Both times Jimmy had sent them away with Big J and the others to be cared for, to do what they could to restore them to health. They would rescue everyone they could, they would save the unsaveable because Jimmy had promised Ebenezer that he would keep them safe. And if Jimmy had to keep a slightly bigger group safe, well the only thing that could mean was victory against Kodos, because they’d claimed for their own a life he’d attempted to snuff. When the others had left, however, when they’d carted away any of the still breathing souls that had been dumped into the Boneyard like trash, well…  
  
Then he ate.  
  
He’d look for the fresher bodies, the ones that were not grossly misshapen with gases, the ones that did not yet show patches of rot, and would carefully remove thighs and arms with a stone knife. He was careful never to look at their faces, careful never to examine too closely what he was doing. When he had what he needed, he’d skin the flesh until the cool muscle was revealed. He tried not to think about what he was doing, tried to pretend it was just animal meat, but he couldn’t, not always. More than once he’d vomited it back up, unable to reconcile what he was doing with the necessity of it. He made himself eat it anyways, though, because there wasn’t enough food to go around as it was- his snares rarely picked up animals these days, and what creatures were killed were never enough. Vegetables and fruits too had all but disappeared, thanks to the fact that winter was just over the horizon, and everything was done growing for the year. When he’d removed the skin from the muscle, he’d go out as far as he could into the woods and build a fire near the river, cooking the meat over the open flame until it was unrecognizable as having once been human flesh; it was the only way Jimmy could stand to look at it. Between each mouthful he drank as much water as he could stand, hating the taste of the meat in his mouth, hating the fact that his body craved more, hating the fact that he was doing this to people he might have met once, hating the fact that Kodos the Executioner, the Murderer, the Devil had made this necessary for survival.  
  
He had nightmares about cannibalism, about the people whose flesh he’d consumed coming after him to demand payment for his misdeeds. He’d dream about them with their skin sloughing off, their muscles rotting and their bones peeking through the torn flesh, Jimmy realized why people had been terrified of zombies for a millennia, why the very thought of the undead had become the center of stories and movies and art for centuries. The idea of the dead coming after you for a very real wrong was terrifying, and Jimmy was never able to sleep after one of those meals, unable to so much as close his eyes. He would sit there, in the dark of the forest and shiver, wondering if every sound was the herald to his doom, if the way the shadow moved was simply because of the fire or because there was someone- or something- out there, listening, waiting, watching for Jimmy‘s vigil to waver so they could attack. He hated it, _hated_ it, but he couldn’t stop himself from imagining that the dead would eventually rectify his theft of their flesh, would force him to go through some unspeakable terror to atone for his sins.  
  
Jimmy suspected that Big J knew what he did after he had sent the others back to their cave. After all, the days that they went to the Boneyard were the days where Jimmy would stay out all night no matter what the weather, unable to face the others with the knowledge of what he’d done. He’d rather it was him that went through this, though. He didn’t want the others, the kids, to know what he’d done for their sake, so they could eat the food he brought back for them. He wouldn’t destroy their innocence by telling them that he’d consumed human flesh so they could have another mouthful of normal food, of food that wouldn‘t haunt their nightmares and make them wonder if there was a Hell.  
  
Yet it was worth it; their expressions when they were able to eat that extra mouthful was so completely worth it that Jimmy would eat the flesh of a thousand people if it meant that his friends, the children under his protection would be able to survive even a single day longer. Big J occasionally tried to press more food on Jimmy, telling him that if he didn’t eat then he wouldn’t be strong enough to go out and keep them safe, playing off Jimmy’s desire to keep them all safe. Jimmy did his best to thwart Big J every way that he could, claiming things like that he felt ill and simply wished for some of the weak broth, or that he’d eaten a handful of berries while he was out. Jimmy knew that most of the time Big J wasn’t fooled, if his expression was anything to go by, but Jimmy was shameless enough to use Gail, Harry, Gabriel and the others as a defense, knowing that Big J wouldn’t want to bring up what he suspected with the others around. Jimmy was careful not to let Big J catch him alone either, to prevent him from addressing the matter privately.  
  
Jimmy tried to make amends, occasionally, when he could get a few hours to himself. Just because he didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to acknowledge what he was doing, didn’t mean he didn’t want to try and express his thanks for allowing him to survive long enough to save everyone he could. There was a hill that overlooked the Boneyard that Jimmy went to sometimes if he was upwind of the bodies, to prevent from gagging on the smell. He would watch as the sun set, painting the field red again in a mimicry of all the blood that had been spilled on Tarsus IV. He would stand on that hill and weep silently for all the lives that had been lost, and he would pray.  
  
He would use any prayer he knew. He started with the Earth religions, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Native American, Buddhist, Shinto, and more, then moved onto the religions of other worlds, of Vulcan’s pre-Reformation prayers to the warrior gods Salok, T’Prayma and Sanikar, of the Cardassian Sun-Prayer, of Devishar’s Blessing of the Lady and more, until he forgot how many he’d said for the dead and simply began at the beginning again.  
  
It was a strange dichotomy, those times. Most of the time, Jimmy was convinced there was no god or God, no higher power that existed- because if they did, surely they would have stopped Tarsus IV, surely they would have shown mercy to the four thousand people that were killed simply because of their genes.  
  
But these times, when the sun painted the earth red, with the flesh of the dead giving him strength, Jimmy prayed that the faceless bodies would find the peace they desired in the afterlife.  
  
Because that was all that was left.

~*~

It was night, and despite the winter chill Jimmy couldn’t quite bear to go inside the cave quite yet. Instead, he sat outside on top of the stone and stared at the stars, wondering what would happen, if they were doomed to live out the rest of their lives in this limbo, scrimping and saving and fighting for every breath they took. Jimmy hated this, hated being so maudlin, hated the fact that every day it felt like things were spinning more and more out of control.

It made him want to fly out into the stars, to escape what was happening here by leaving it all behind, never to be seen again. He shucked off the blanket that he’d had wrapped around him, balancing precariously on the topmost stone, holding out his hands to the starlight and moonlight, each breath escaping as a white mist.

“Or outrun my skin, and just be pure wind,” Jimmy muttered under his breath, chanting the half remembered song aloud, thinking of the days during which his mother would tidy up the house, singing ancient songs, her throaty voice sounding far better than it should have. He let the tears that welled up fall, feeling them cool as they rolled down his cheeks until they dripped off the line of his jaw, falling to the stone beneath his feet.

He cried here and now, for everything that had been done to his friends, for everyone that had been killed, certainly. But he also allowed tears to fall for himself, for the nightmares that became dim memories upon waking but managed to keep him awake for days after, terrified out of his wits about falling asleep once more. He cried for the family that he missed, and the way his mom would always squeeze the breath out of him before he went to bed. He cried for the food he’d stolen, for the marks that had been left on his body by overzealous opponents and for the scars left on his heart for those who’d used his body as little more than a willing vessel.

He cried the most though for the innocent kid that had come to Tarsus IV unaware of the true depth of evil in the universe, the boy that had died the night that Abby’s blood had left droplets on his cheek.

Jimmy didn’t feel any better when he’d finished weeping. He’d heard that crying was supposed to make you feel better, that you were supposed to feel cleansed at the end of it. Jimmy just felt sad, and dirty, and wanted to know when it was all going to end.

Four months, three weeks and six days they’d been like this, from the moment that Abby had died. It frightened Jimmy, that they might have another six weeks, maybe more- probably more- before they could even hope for rescue, before they could dare to dream that the end was in sight. Jimmy cradled his head in his hands, wishing that there was something that he could take for the pounding in his head. A dull ache throbbed just above his left temple, the pressure making Jimmy feel even more ill than normal.

He groaned, gathering up the blanket and making his way back down the rocks easily due to his extensive experience in scaling the stone. He hoped he would be able to rest tonight, for he needed rest desperately. His entire body seemed to be weighed down with fatigue, but sleeping only seemed to result in him feeling worse. Jimmy rubbed at his head, so concentrated was he on his physical and emotional agony that he almost missed the stilling of the forest around him.

Jimmy froze in place, listening as hard as he could and barely breathing. He’d learned in the wilderness the last few months that when a forest goes quiet, no matter what the time, it usually wasn’t good. There were several animals, both nocturnal and diurnal who would find a boy to be an excellent meal, and most likely would find a human less challenging than it would be to hunt down an equally large wild animal. Keeping his movements slow as he could, and keeping his back to the stones so nothing could surprise him from behind, Jimmy inched along the wall, taking small measured steps that would take him closer to the entrance to the cave without drawing too much attention to himself.

He was so focused on being as still and silent as possible that the roar of the engines nearly scared him out of his skin, and his eyes darted around, looking for the source of the noise. He didn’t even recognize it as an engine at first; his first instinct was to wonder what sort of animal made such a prolonged, belly-deep growl that continued without pause.

Thirty seconds passed before Jimmy thought to look up. When he finally did, his mouth dropped open, taking in the ship that was in the sky overhead. It wasn’t a proper starship; it wasn’t even approaching that size or scale. It was, however, a rather diminutive cargo ship, one that could hold a thirty or so people and numerous supplies of any sort.

There wasn’t a ship like that in all of Tarsus IV.

Jimmy stared at the ship with absolutely no expression on his face as he realized the implications. He simply stood there, unable to move as he watched the ship dock in the clearing. It was small enough that it could dock anywhere it wished, so long as the ground was stable. Someone jumped out of the ship as soon as it touched the ground and began securing the moorings, making sure that the ship was secure on the ground.

The man caught sight of Jimmy out of the corner of his eye and his jaw dropped, too many emotions to be counted flitting over his face. His face settled into a sort of pitying, perplexed expression. “Hey there,” the man called from where he stood next to the ship, Scottish burr turning the words into something nigh unrecognizable.

Jimmy gaped at him.

“Lieutenant, we have to finish docking before we can get out. I know you said that you found life signs around here, but we didn’t see anything when we flew by. We’ve got to be prepared-”

“Capt’n,” the man said in a low tone that he clearly thought wouldn’t reach Jimmy, “I don’t think we have to go looking for those life signs. I’m looking at a kid right now. Jesus Christ, Capt’n, you’ve gotta see this!”

The back hatch fully opened and Jimmy stepped forward, dazed, as if he were living a waking dream. “We’ll be with you in just a moment to help you out!” the man called out with forced cheerfulness. “We’re here to help- Starfleet contacted our ship, the Daedalus, Federation code NCC-1389. We were in the general area, and since we were running some supplies, they asked us to divert from our course and drop off aid.” There was a tremor in the man’s voice, and Jimmy knew that whatever the crew of the Daedalus had expected, they had found more than they’d bargained for. Then again, coming to Tarsus IV was more than anything Jimmy had ever bargained for either, more than he’d expected and in all of the worst possible ways.

Despite all of that though, despite being able to see the man before him, despite the authorization painted on one side, despite the fact that their hell might finally, finally, be over, Jimmy could only focus on one word, which rebounded inside his head like a clarion bell.

Starfleet.

It could only be Starfleet- their uniforms, the badges on their shirts, the cargo ship. Jimmy looked up to the sky as though he’d be able to spot the ship that was surely in orbit around Tarsus IV. He was numb, unbelieving. After all this time, was this actually the end? It seemed inconceivable, it seemed like a dream of a dream. Jimmy closed his eyes, pinched himself, wishing there was a way to wake up or confirm that this was real. He couldn’t speak, he was so overwhelmed, nearly unable to process what he was seeing.

“Capt’n,” the man called again, sounding nervous.

Jimmy looked back to the cargo hatch, staring in incomprehension at the back of the cargo ship, which had just finished opening. A man that Jimmy could only assume was the Captain stepped off the back.

He was tall, thin frame powerful. His arms were linked behind his back, hands out of sight as he surveyed the area around him before focusing on Jimmy. He was wearing the Starfleet science uniform of royal blue, his uniform absolutely pristine, and Jimmy was abruptly aware of how awful he must look in comparison, blanket in one hand, clothing beginning to fall apart at the seams after months of hard wear and tear. The man didn’t looked human, though. His hair was black and cut straight across his forehead, his eyes a dark brown that retained some measure of warmth despite the reserved cast to his features. His ears curved upwards at the top, delicately pointing at the apex.

Jimmy knew him.

His brain fought to make the connection, to figure out how Jimmy knew so alien a figure. Jimmy stepped forward before he’d even realized it, striding through the grass in the night without a single thought in his head besides figuring out who this person was. Jimmy stepped perhaps a meter before the Captain, staring up into that face, searching desperately for the reason that Jimmy held the Captain’s visage so dear in his heart.

A name rose unbidden to his lips, and Jimmy knew that he had to speak it or his soul would wither, that he may as well die here and now if he kept the name within the confines of his heart.

“ _Spock_ ,” Jimmy breathed, and the word hovered between them, delicate as a butterfly’s wing.

And then the universe shattered.


	13. We'll Have the Bonds That We Save

Sarek, Lieutenant Sulu, Nurse Chapel and the Security team started in shock when the screaming began. They looked to the other Nu’a, but every single one had their mouths open, the wail emanating from them raising the hairs on the back of everyone’s necks. They looked to each other as well, but they had no idea as to what to do, they didn’t know if it was normal.  
  
Then, for a breath’s time, it felt as though a thousand kilogram stone had been dropped on each every one of them, as an indescribable amount agony, guilt, pain, terror and sorrow swamped everyone’s senses. After a short eternity of the unbearable emotional distress, the pressure dwindled to absolutely nothing, as did the sound.  
  
In that silence, Spock’s small, broken gasp seemed to be as loud as a shout. Then there was an explosion of movement; Veda sucked in a breath, chest pulling away from Kiva, hand covering the center of her chest protectively. She stood, staring at Captain Kirk, aghast. Two small holes opened on her cheeks and small, dark purple droplets rolled down from the opening.  
  
She was weeping.  
  
Rach’na had stood too, and had covered her face, turning away from the Captain and the other members of the Enterprise as though unable to face them. The observers all carried expressions of heartbreak, of infinite sadness and deep remorse. Sarek and the others looked around at their worried faces, unsure as to what to do. Kavi sat up then, shivering and the fact that Kavi had moved at all sent another wave of shock through the room.  
  
Spock sat up too, pulling his hands away from Captain Kirk’s temple as though burned. He cradled the hand to his chest, staring at Captain Kirk in open shock, the expression so clear on his face that it was like a physical blow to the others in the room. Spock schooled his face soon enough, but the damage had been done.  
  
Last but not least, Captain Kirk awoke with a cry, lurching up from his prone position and scrambling back with a sob. The small, terrified sound that had escaped from the Captain’s mouth startled the people in the room even more than the earlier panicked screams of the Nu’a. Everyone crowded forward instinctually, hovering around the Captain, and pandemonium exploded in the room. Nurse Chapel pushed forward, running scans for everything and anything with her tricorder, instructing everyone else to back away, to give Captain Kirk some room to breathe. Sarek turned his attentions to Veda, Kavi and Rach’na, asking in a quiet voice what was wrong, asking why they had reacted in such a fashion. Lieutenant Sulu and the Security team eyed the Nu’a warily, getting as close as they dared to Captain Kirk, facing towards the Nu’a and putting their backs to Nurse Chapel and the Captain, who was still scrunched up on the back corner of the bed, shaking sobs occasionally drifting out of his mouth. Lieutenant Sulu also raised his comm, hoping to get through to the Enterprise even knowing that being so far beneath the surface made it exceedingly unlikely that they would be able to get through. He hailed them time and again to no avail.  
  
Within all the pandemonium, Spock finally stepped forward, eyes locked on the Captain’s shrunken form. He leaned past Nurse Chapel, who scowled at Spock for a second and then backed off at the man’s expression. Spock seated himself on the bed for a moment reaching out with one hand. He hesitated in the air for a moment, then rested his hand on Captain Kirk’s shoulder. The Captain jumped, pulling his body out of Spock’s reach, then stilled, relaxing a little. He unwound a bit, the arms he’d wrapped around his legs loosening; he lifted his head, eyes a little red, gaze somewhat unfocused as he looked at Spock. He blinked a couple of times before he seemed to actually see Spock.  
  
“What?” he said in a voice that croaked. He blinked a few more times, straightening before lifting a hand to his forehead. “Ugh, my head,” he said. “I feel like I was just hit by the Enterprise. What the hell just happened?”  
  
“Captain Kirk, are you alright?” Spock pressed, leaning forward a little to peer more closely at the other man’s face. The thing he’d seen in the Captain’s head rose up, and the face of the little child Jimmy replaced that of the full grown man for a long and painful moment, making Spock catch his breath. Spock set the image aside however, for now was not the time to address such concerns.  
  
“Yeah,” Captain Kirk grunted, shifting a little to figure out his various aches and pains. He didn’t quite meet either Spock or Nurse Chapel’s eyes as he spoke, however, and there was a blankness, an infinite sadness to his tone that Spock couldn’t even begin to quantify, even in the face of what Spock had learned. “Yeah, I think I’m fine. ‘Cept my head- that’s killing me.” As if to augment that statement, Captain Kirk groaned a little and rubbed at his temple theatrically.  
  
Nurse Chapel moved in expertly, stabbing the Captain in the side of the neck with a hypospray for precisely that ailment. Captain Kirk yelped and pulled away, hand coming up to cover the mark. “The hell?” He said, outraged. “Have you been taking lessons from Bones?”  
  
“Yes,” she agreed smoothly. “Early and often.”  
  
Captain Kirk shook his head at that, then looked like he regretted it for a few long moments before his headache began to subside. He focused internally for a moment, or two, and Spock waited with baited breath, wondering how the Captain would respond to such a travesty, to being put through his worst nightmares. Spock had underestimated the Captain’s ability to control himself, however, and there was a certain set of his jaw that Spock had long since learned to read as the Captain putting aside his personal issues in order to pay attention to what was going on around him. Spock thought of what he’d seen in the meld and nearly shuddered, restraining it only at the last second. Now was not the time or the place to speak of such an intimate matter, much as he might have wished it.  
  
“Much better,” Captain Kirk sighed, and with one last rub of his temple, he let his hand fall away, and there was not a hint of the helplessness and anxiety that had been present on his face mere moments before. Kirk then looked around the room, both eyebrows shooting upwards in an expression of absolute surprise, noting the personnel surrounding him, backs tight with tension. He took in the way Nurse Chapel was staring intently at her tricorder as she fiddled with it and ran scan after scan. He took in Spock’s face, calm as ever on the surface, but with unnamed emotions filling Spock’s eyes as he watched his Captain. Then he looked past the ring of impromptu bodyguards to the still sobbing aliens, eyebrows lifting even further than Spock would have thought possible. They abruptly lowered themselves as Captain Kirk leaned forward, perplexed. “Is that…is that your father?” he asked, and then blinked, as though he believed that if he closed his eyes, the surreality of the entire situation would fade.  
  
“Yes,” Spock said, then stopped, as he had no idea as to where to start. How did one speak of all that had happened in the last few hours- not even a full day had passed, and yet simultaneously everything seemed to have changed.  
  
Captain Kirk nodded, taking the admission in stride, then moved, standing up from the bed and ignoring Nurse Chapel and Spock’s protests with practiced ease.  
  
“Excuse me!” Captain Kirk proclaimed in a loud, clear tone. “If you all could quiet down for just a moment so I can figure out what the fuck is going on, I’d be much obliged.” He finished with his typical winning smile, his blue eyes filled with sincerity as he disregarded the shocked looks and gasps that were directed in his direction. Nevertheless, the entire room slowly quieted, and Spock was not in the least surprised by yet another show of the Captain’s charisma. Then he sat back down, turning his gaze to Spock. “Mr. Spock,” he said in a cheerful voice that sounded like it was one step away from insanity, “I’d like very much to hear what’s happening- erm, what happened, for that matter. And I really hope it’s as exciting as all this noise would seem to indicate, or else I will be sorely disappointed.”  
  
Spock blinked, not quite sure what to make of his Captain’s apparent joviality. “Perhaps that is a business that would be better left for the ship.”  
  
“Are these aliens planning on killing us?” Captain Kirk asked.  
  
“Not that I am aware of,” Spock informed him, rather offended at the implication that Kirk would be allowed anywhere near the aliens if they had hostile intentions.  
  
“Unless they’re planning to use their tears,” Sulu muttered under his breath, looking a little harassed and as though he very much wanted to be able to leave the room and never come back. Captain Kirk shot him a look that the pilot missed due to the fact that he was facing the opposite direction.   
  
When the glare had no effect Kirk turned back to Spock. “Well, even I know that it would take them a while to drown us with their tears, so I think that you should start talking. Actually, no, scratch that. What is your father doing here? Well, I suppose that’s a part of the report, so answer that when you come to that part of the story. Is there any reason he is over there, comforting a strange alien species that I have never met before- and looking rather awkward while doing so, since I’m fairly sure that tears are never a Vulcan’s forte. Oh look- that one alien is giving him a hug. Weird.”  
  
Spock’s mouth opened then shut again. There were so many things that he wished to say that he wasn’t able to say anything at all for a good five seconds. “If you will allow me, it may be best if we get the current situation sorted before I inform you of the events that led up to this point.”  
  
Captain Kirk regarded him carefully, and seemed to come to several conclusions, the final of which made him blanch and little. Kirk closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling once, very slowly, and then his genial persona was exposed again. Spock wanted to ask what had happened, but the Captain stood again, pushing past his guard and facing the others in the room.  
  
“I am James Tiberius Kirk of the USS Enterprise, Federation ship NCC-1701. And I‘d like to get this current situation settled so that my First Officer will tell me what happened up until now.” He crossed his arms over his chest, and his smile began to look a little manic.  
  
There was a moment of pause, where no one was quite sure what they were supposed to say in response to that. Then Rach’na composed herself, stepping towards the others. Kiva was still blinking rather woozily, but Veda kept him standing. They all crowded together, then kneeled as one, resting their heads upon their hands in some contorted position that everyone in the room winced at, unable to imagine their own limbs in such a position.  
  
“I am Rach’na Avidamar of the Nu’a,” the head of the Council announced, reedy voice muffled by the fact that she was more or less speaking the words to the floor. Everyone else‘s mouths dropped open in surprise as they stared at the prostrate Nu‘a. “And we cannot forgive ourselves for the injustice that we have inadvertently caused you.”  
  
It was at about that point that Jim Kirk fainted dead away.  
  


~*~

The second time that Jim woke up, he was back on the Enterprise, in Med Bay. He stared at the ceiling groggily, letting his thoughts slowly come together.

“Jim?”

Jim shifted slightly, blinking a little more and looking up into Bones’s face. “Bones!” Jim said, smile breaking out. He tried to sit up and wavered, headache flaring up again. He wondered how that was possible, since he’d just been stabbed with a hypospray a couple of minutes ago.

“At least you know me. It‘s a start, I suppose,” Bones growled, checking the scans before turning to face Jim. As soon as he saw what the other man was up to, Bones pushed him back down with one hand and slammed a hypospray into Jim’s neck with the other. “Don’t even think about it. You’re not going to move out of that bed until I say you can.”

“Dammit, Bones! Chapel just stabbed me with one of those things!” Jim exclaimed, pulling out of reach of Bones as best he could. From the looks of things, the doctor was in a foul mood, and it was entirely likely that he would stab Jim with another seven hyposprays if he thought he could get away with it.

The doctor shook his head, and he looked worried, eyes going dark as he looked over his friend. “Jim, that happened twelve hours ago, give or take. You’ve been sleeping since you fainted.” Bones’s mouth when a little pinched at that, and Jim felt a stab of guilt.

Jim just smiled in response, unable to articulate an apology. “I prefer the phrase ‘taking an involuntary nap’,” Jim said instead, and was gratified when Bones’s eyes softened a little, and he shook his head again.

“Whatever. Well, your _involuntary nap_ lasted for about twelve hours.” Without pause, Bones continued, “Spock’s been chomping at the bit, asking me every hour on the hour if he can do another one of those voodoo melds, and between him and Sarek I’m about to start barring Vulcans from my Med Bay on general principle. Then on top of it, the Nu‘a keep demanding to speak with you, going on and on about forgiveness and what not, though they won‘t actually discussed the travesty they subjected to you. And I haven‘t even gotten to the fact that Starfleet is breathing down our necks, unable to decide if they want us to stick around like the potentially powerful new species wants, or if they want to get the Vulcan Ambassador back to Earth safe and sound just to prove that they‘re not screw-ups…” The longer Bones spoke, the more frazzled that the doctor looked. “It’s been…Jim…” the man seemed to be at a loss for words, and he just shook his head for a moment.

Jim opened his mouth, about to press for more details when Spock cam striding through the doors of Medical, zeroing in instantly on Jim and the fact that he was awake. The way he knew exactly where to go spoke of how many time’s he must have done this very thing in his quest to convince Bones to let him do another mind meld. “Captain!” the man said, looking pleased in the fact that he was very careful _not_ to look pleased.

“First Officer Spock,” Jim said, sitting up from the pillows and attempting to look better than he felt. The darkness of Tarsus IV, of what he’d dreamed on that planet surged, and with the ease of long practice he tamped it down until it was little more than background noise. Unlike last time, his head didn’t start making the room spin when he attempted to sit up, and he considered it to be a good sign. He waved a hand, beckoning Spock forward, more than ready to get everything sorted out; there were few things he hated more than being in the dark about a situation.

Bones grabbed the blue-eyed man’s hand, stopping the motion. The earlier scowl was back full force, and Jim instinctively tried to stay out of hypospray range. “Oh no you don’t,” the doctor groused for a moment, pinning Jim back to the sheets. “You’re not doing _anything_ Captain-like, not so much as listening to a report until I make sure you’re not dying of some strange disease, mental or otherwise, that you somehow managed to pick up on the planet. And knowing you, you probably managed to pick up something.”

Jim sighed, looking at Spock pleadingly, but the Vulcan stood firm against his Captain’s expression. “Doctor McCoy is…right,” he said, and the slight hesitance to the word spoke to his dislike of being forced to agree. Jim rolled his eyes. Of course they would be united against him in this. It just figured. “Until we are sure you are not suffering any ill effects, it would be best if I remain Acting Captain.”

Jim attempted to argue, but he was beset on all sides; even Nurse Chapel had sided against him when she’d heard the shouts. In a way, the fact that even the normally calm Nurse Chapel has risen in a spirited defense of both Spock and Bones reminded Jim that it wasn’t just his friends that were worried, but the entire ship, that he‘d been missing for hours without any clue as to his location, and they’d had no idea for most of that time if he was even dead or alive. He’d capitulated then, albeit with bad grace, and another hour passed before Bones was satisfied with his health. Jim made sure to pester him during each and every test, driving the man up the wall in an effort to convince him that he was feeling fine.

Physically, at least. Mentally…well, that was something that Jim didn’t dare face quite yet, not when he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d had such a vivid immersion in his memories of Tarsus IV. It had felt like a flashback, something that he hadn’t had in years. It was-

“You’re good to go.” The words were said grudgingly, but they were said all the same.

“Really?” Jim said, and he knew that the excitement of being free had lit up his face because Bones’s perpetual scowl became a little deeper.

“Yes, you ungrateful little twat. Here. Spock dropped off some clothes while you were being tested.” Bones shoved a handful of clothing at him, and Jim felt his smile stretch even wider at the sight of the gold fabric.

He felt mostly human when he was dressed in gold again, and headed immediately for the door.

Before Jim managed to escape, however, Bones pulled him aside, and the fear and strain in those normally warm eyes made Jim spontaneously hug him. It worried Jim even more that Bones didn’t fight it, didn’t curse him or laugh at him, just hugged him tight for a moment, breathing, “Kid, you’ve got to stop scaring me shitless like that. I’m growing too old to have a heart attack every time you…” Bones rested his chin on Jim‘s shoulder, squeezing a little tighter for good measure. “Look, you’ll understand better when Spock explains. He‘s the one that knows this entire clusterfuck best.” He took a step back, searching Jim’s face for a moment. “And Jim, you’ll have to come in for the standard psych evals,” Bones reported, once more slipping inside the professional persona.

“What?” Jim asked, surprised. “What for? I just-”

“You were on that planet for over twelve hours, and you were asleep for another twelve” Bones snapped, and the heat of his words made Jim pause, taking another look at the doctor. “We couldn’t find you for…I don’t even know, Jesus Christ- eight hours? Maybe more? I wasn’t keeping track of time. And for most of that time you were lost in some sort of brain mumbo-jumbo awakening nonsense, and they were talking about how they use particularly powerful, life defining moments…” Bones gestured with his hand, and the motion was helpless and pained.

Jim looked at Bones then, really looked at Bones, and swallowed, taking in the dark smudges under his eyes, the way the lines that bracketed his mouth seemed deeper than ever. Jim knew where his worry came from. There weren’t a whole lot of life defining moments of Jim’s that were pleasant, and Bones knew each and every one of them. “Yeah,” he said, and that single word threatened to undo all the work he’d done to pretend to be unaffected since he’d woken up, as though he hadn’t spent a small eternity reliving his worst nightmare. But Bones was his oldest and dearest friend, and damn well knew him better than he knew himself. “Tarsus IV.” Jim said, and he closed his eyes while doing it, unable to face Bones in that moment.

“Jesus Christ.” Bones breathed. “Fuck. _Fuck_. Jesus Christ. Kid…” he trailed off, hugging Jim so tight that it felt like his ribs were creaking.

It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Jim couldn’t swallow around the lump in his throat, and his eyes stung alarmingly. He inhaled and exhaled several times into Bones’s uniform. It smelled like the hospital always did, of antiseptic and soap. He’d hated that scent for a long time, but Bones had an undercurrent of something wild and warm, the last vestiges of his cologne, perhaps. Bones made that cleanliness smell human, and Jim couldn’t help but return the hug twice as hard. “Thanks,” he whispered, the only sound that could slip past that lump.

“Just promise me that you’ll come and talk to me when this is all done, alright? Just…just let me help you. Promise me, kid.”

Jim snorted out a laugh that sounded a little wet. “Yeah, Bones, I promise.”

Now there was a note of humor in Bones’s voice. “This is the part where I tell you Spock looks like he’s about to suffer from a conniption if he has to stand there awkwardly for one more second and watch us hug.”

Jim pulled away with a noise of embarrassment, flushing a brilliant scarlet when he turned around and saw that Spock was indeed standing several meters behind him, attempting to look like he was in Med Bay for a specific purpose while also not staring at the Captain hugging his CMO.

Jim swatted Bones, then laughed, a little too loud and a little too brightly, perhaps, but it still felt good, and it kept Tarsus IV at bay for a little while longer, which was really all that mattered.

He strode out of Medical Bay with Spock on his heels. Jim considered briefly checking in with the bridge, but decided against it at the last minute, wishing to speak with Spock privately about what had happened down on the planet first. He stepped onto the turbo lift, Spock still following him, without saying a word. Bones had mentioned a mind meld, the very idea of which made him swallow against too many thoughts crowding against the forefront of his brain. He fought to clear his head, leading Spock down to his ready room.

They stepped inside, and there wasn’t a single sign of it having been used in the interim, and Jim shook his head a little at his crew. He took a seat at the head of the table, settling in and getting comfortable for what was sure to be a positively fascinating explanation, to borrow a phrase.

Spock looked to be unable to start for several minutes, but Jim waited patiently, feeling that it was unnecessary to rush the half-Vulcan into speaking. Spock was always so deliberate that it probably wouldn’t do anything but to annoy him anyways. Just as Jim was wondering if he should speak after all, if it would be necessary to break the ice that was slowly building between them, Spock opened his mouth.

Spock told him everything. Jim just listened, eyes growing wider and wider as he heard the entire story of the last twenty four hours. Even summed up in Spock’s clear baritone, even without embellishment or unnecessary descriptions, Jim couldn’t formulate a response.

“Wow,” Jim finally said when Spock finished speaking. He flushed a little, hating how inarticulate he always seemed to be around his eloquent first officer. “So…let me just make sure I’ve gotten all this straight. Basically, I was left on the planet, the Nu’a found me and did some crazy mind stuff to make me relive a defining moment in my life in the hopes that it would restore me to consciousness. Meanwhile, you all have no idea where I am and no way to get in touch with me. Since you’re suffering from essentially an overblown allergy reaction to a protein you produce, you had to jump through all sorts of hoops to get back down to the planet, and even then you ended up bringing Sarek along just in case. The Nu’a popped out of the ground from beneath a semi-sentient _unwinding_ tree, and as if that isn’t weird enough, it turns out that they’re empathic and telepathic to a degree that so exceeds what the Vulcans are capable of that it doesn’t even merit description. Then you all went down, and you and Veda performed essentially a double meld to bring me and Kiva back.” Jim shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around it all. “Why can’t the Enterprise, you know, have any _normal_ missions or anything?” He meant it to come out as a joke, and he might have succeeded another day, when he didn’t have a million other things weighing down his mind, chief most of them being the ‘defining moment’ that the Nu’a had chosen.

Spock looked as if he might address the comment for a second or two then visibly changed his mind, ignoring the last comment and saying instead, “Your summary is essentially correct, Captain.”

“Great.” Jim said tiredly, ready to just crawl back into bed for another twelve hours. “Just great.”

Silence stretched between the pair for several long moments. “Captain,” Spock finally said, at the same moment that Jim said, “Spock.” They both stopped short, surprised, and looked at one another, each indicating that the other should speak first. After a moment of fumbling, Spock finally inclined his head, indicating that he would speak.

“I…” Spock stopped there, and closed his eyes, bowing his head as though he could not bear to face what he needed to say. “During the course of the meld, I entered the moment of definition that the Nu’a chose.”

Jim swallowed, but otherwise his expression didn’t change. “I suspected as much,” he said quietly, and he couldn’t quite meet Spock’s eyes. “I…” he was struck by the same hesitation that Spock had suffered just a moment earlier, and found himself unable to say anything thanks to the indecision. “I…” he said again, and this time Spock reached out a hand, placing it over Jim’s in an expression of solidarity. Jim didn’t know who was more surprised at the gesture, him or Spock, but decided not to dwell on it, lest it make the half-Vulcan uncomfortable. Instead he drew strength from Spock’s hand and managed to say, “I don’t want you to think that I’m blowing you off. This is something that we’ll have to address, something we’ll have to talk about. The things you saw…” Jim looked haunted, and he stared at Spock without actually seeing him. “Tarsus IV wasn’t…it wasn’t easy. At all. I swear I will talk to you about it, just not now. Not when I’ve got the aliens who caused this in the first place asking to see me again, not when I’ve got an entire ship of people looking to me to make things all better, not when I’ve got Starfleet keeping up a steady stream of demands, most of which are contradictory in some sense.”

Spock nodded, and there was a sorrow in his eyes accompanied by a sort of soft warmth. “Captain, I understand completely. I will be ready to lend a listening ear whenever you feel is most convenient.”

Jim exhaled, and there was so much relief in that sound that Spock felt relieved by proxy, the tension leaking out of his arms and shoulders and making it easier to breathe.

“Thank you, by the way,” Jim said suddenly, and a set of roses bloomed in his cheeks. “I haven’t thanked you for rescuing me yet, and at a lot of risk to both yourself and your father…” Jim frowned then, as if just realizing what he said. “Which you are never to do again, Spock!” Jim chided as he realized just how risky it had been for Spock and Sarek to go down to the planet. “If the Nu’a had been hostile, they could have easily crushed everyone under their stronger telepathic powers.”

Spock inclined his head yet again, which Jim figured was as good as an agreement as he was going to get for the time being. He huffed a little sigh, resolving to fight a little harder on the matter later, perhaps when he wasn’t so mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. “Now, you mentioned that the Nu’a wish to see me?”

“Yes,” Spock confirmed, looking none too pleased about the matter. Jim couldn’t tell exactly how he knew that, except that there was something about Spock’s eyes that darkened at the word. “They ask that we do not leave until they are able to set right their wrong.”

“Set right their wrong?” Jim repeated, and he looked a little ill at the thought. “What could they possibly wish to do? How does one make reparations for-” Jim cut himself off, reminding himself that it wasn’t the Nu’a’s fault, what happened. They couldn’t have possibly known about the horror of Tarsus IV, they couldn’t have known that as a mostly psi-null human that Jim would react badly. It was nothing that anyone could have controlled, and thus no one was to blame.

It was just hard to remember that sometimes when a scene from Tarsus IV would rise, unbidden, and it was as if he was back on that godforsaken planet.

“I do not know,” Spock said, and it took Jim a moment to realize that he was answering Jim’s earlier statement.

“Well,” Jim sighed as he got up, heading towards the door of the ready room, “We may as well go find out.”

“Captain!” Spock said, standing up with some alarm. “Surely you aren’t going to go down to the planet.”

Jim shook his head, sad and crooked smile creasing his face a little. “No, not yet. I…I don’t know if I can trust them. I know it wasn’t their fault, but my instincts are screaming right now to high tail it out of here, to leave this system and never come back. It’s…disconcerting, to say the least, but I can‘t seem to convince my heart to believe what my head does.” His smile turned a few degrees more sorrowful, and Spock looked away, unable to face the purity and strength of the emotion shining from the man’s face.

Spock resolved at that minute that he would extract the truth of Tarsus IV from Jim’s lips if it was the last thing he did. It was one thing to have seen it, but a completely other affair to have lived through it, and his respect and his admiration for the man for being able to successfully survive such a catastrophe made his respect and admiration for his Captain grow in leaps and bounds.

Jim, unaware of Spock’s stare, which was currently centered at the center of his back, left the Captain’s ready room, saying, “We’ll talk to them on vid first, to see what they want. If they simply want to apologize, they can do it was well over video as anywhere else, and that should settle the matter.” Jim rubbed at his face. “If they want to see me…I don’t know. Well- I know what Starfleet’ll say. Considering I’m not dead or dying, they’ll want my ass down on that planet to make nice with the locals, especially because they’ve been doing warp for longer than the Federation has been in existence- for longer even than a lot of species, Vulcans included, have had warp, for that matter. But I’m not about to go borrowing trouble.” Jim flashed a smile over his shoulder.

“Did you miss me?” Jim crowed as he and Spock stepped on the bridge.

“Like a case of Orion Herpes,” Uhura said cheerfully and right on cue. Jim made a face at her, which Uhura gracefully ignored as being beneath her.

Jim slid into his chair, groaning gratefully. “Well I certainly missed you,” he crooned to the chair, “even if no one else on my bridge crew missed me. I’ll always hold you dear in my heart.”

“Shall we leave you alone?” Sulu quipped, looking secretly pleased at the fact that the Captain was back on the bridge, with no apparent ill effects. It was a look that most of the bridge shared, in fact, even Uhura, though if she was, her smile was considerably more subtle than some of the beaming grins that could be seen all over the bridge.

“No,” Jim said after a moment, sounding theatrically despondent. “I suppose that if I’m here, I may as well get some work done.”

“How noble of you,” Uhura quipped.

Spock watched the interaction, marveling at the fact that Jim didn’t look as though he’d just spent several hours reliving the nightmare of Tarsus IV; not a single person on the bridge seemed to be aware of the way Jim’s hands shook ever so slightly, the way his face looked pale in the harsh light of the bridge despite the fact that he’d been asleep for twelve hours.

“Lieutenant Uhura, can you bring up the Nu’a on the main screen?”

“Right away, Captain,” Uhura said, hands immediately flying over her console. The main screen lowered itself from the ceiling of the bridge, the enormous screen lighting up as Rach’na’s face flickered and then stabilized.

“Councilwoman Rach’na Avidamar of the Nu’a, greeting. How can I be of service, ma’am?” Jim asked with his most winning smile.

“Simply, Rach’na, please. We generally don’t hold to formalities. And it is not for you to be in service to us, Captain Kirk. It is we who are indebted to you. Please, we must make reparations-”

“It was no one’s fault,” Jim interrupted smoothly, cutting off what was sure to be a lengthy speech riddled with guilt and apologies. “You couldn’t have known what would happen, and therefore it is no more than a simple incident which I am sure will not affect our future relations. I thank you for your apology, however, and furthermore, I wish to thank you for your efforts to save my life.”

Rach’na looked none too pleased with Jim’s dismissal. “Captain Kirk, it is Nu’a custom- we must make reparations when one is wronged. We understand that we, perhaps, may not be the most trustworthy individuals in your eyes, so we offer this compromise. We will meet on the surface, where your transporter can beam you out at the least sign of trouble. No more than five Nu’a will be in your presence at any given time. And you are welcome to bring as many people as you feel are necessary to ensure security for you and yours. But please, Captain, do us the honor and the great favor for being able to repay, even in some small way, for our misdeeds.” Rach’na spoke earnestly, passionately, every word imbued with genuine sorry and grief, while her eyes were alight with the hope that her and her people would be able to make the reparations that they held so dear to them.

Jim felt himself wavering. “May we have a moment to confer?” he asked.

Rach’na looked inordinately pleased that Jim was even considering agreeing, and lifted her hands, fluttering them back in forth in time with her head in such a manner that Jim could only think that she was giving her permission to do so. Jim signaled for Uhura to shut off the signal for a moment, and then turned to his bridge crew. “Thoughts?”

“I believe they are sincere. In addition, the fact that they have agreed to meet us on the surface, that we may bring whatever personnel we deem necessary, and the fact that no more than five Nu’a will be present at any given time seems to indicate that they are willing to bargain from a relative disadvantage, should things go wrong, and Mr. Scott has proven himself able to beam up anyone at the smallest signal.” Jim looked at Spock in some surprise, wondering at the agreement when just minutes ago he had so fervently spoken out against Jim going down there.

“What about their telepathy?” Sulu interjected, looking a little cross at Spock’s quick defense.

“I can warn you should they try. Since it affected my father and I more strongly and more immediately than it did humans, by the time I suffer the ill effects, everyone would have time to get out before anything more permanent occurred.”

Jim still looked suspicious of Spock’s defense, but Uhura quickly stepped up to plate for them. “I didn’t go down there, but from the reports, everything indicates that they are peaceable creatures who truly only want to apologize. They could have taken offense at what happened to their healer, but instead they are trying to smooth our relations, to make sure that no offense has been taken. It doesn’t cost us anything to reassure them of our goodwill. In addition, though I’m hardly an expert in Nu’a physiology, based on the physical indicators of humanoids, Rach’na wasn’t lying- her eyes never left yours, she faced you openly, and the timbre of her voice stayed even.”

From there, various people spoke both for and against going down to the planet. Even Bones and Sarek, when they heard of what was going on, made their way down to the bridge to make their opinions known.

Jim listened to everyone’s opinion carefully, considering their input and weighing it against Starfleet’s orders. Eventually he held up his hand for silence. “Uhura, please hail Rach’na again.” When the councilwoman was once more on the screen, staring at Jim with unabashed hope, Jim quirked a little smile. “We would be happy to come down. Please be aware that we will be monitoring the planet; our engineer, Mr. Scott, is able to pick up on your life signals and will be able to tell if there are any more than five Nu’a present at a given time.”

Rach’na did the same fluttering head and hand waving that was the Nu’a’s agreement. “Of course, Captain. I cannot thank you enough that you have given us an opportunity to repay some of the kindness and goodwill that you have bestowed upon us. Feel free to contact us at your convenience, and we will come to the surface at the location of your choosing.”

From there, Jim and Rach’na said their cordial goodbyes, and Uhura broke the connection; a flurry of activity broke out as Jim planned the trip back down to the surface. Two hours later, Jim instructed Uhura from his comm to contact the Nu’a that they had arrived, and then another thirty minutes was spent waiting for them to surface. This time, however, there was nothing more than the barest hint of pressure when the Nu’a exited the _mirtha_. Spock and Sarek were once more armed as best they could be against any incursion that the Nu’a could mount, ready at a moment’s notice to send the alarm up. In addition to the two Vulcans, two security teams decked to the nines with every kind of weapon imaginable formed a lose ring around their Captain, First Officer and Ambassador.

The four Nu’a that accompanied Rach’na stood back. Amongst them were Veda and Kiva, and they all bowed, the same prostrate position that they had been in before Jim had taken his so-called involuntary nap. Rach’na stepped forward, slowly and carefully, at all times indicating that she was not a threat to the Security team.

“An apology is truly enough,” Jim said in an opening gambit, stepping forward as well, though his hand lingered near his phaser. “We don’t need anything more than that. I don’t need anything more than that.”

Rach’na shook her head once more in refusal. She stopped about five meters from the Captain before she said in a clear voice that traveled to everyone present, “Many eons ago, it seems now, our people fought without mercy and without hope of receiving mercy. The depths we sank to cannot be described, cannot be fully realized in words. We nearly destroyed ourselves and our planet in our wars, and it is something we regret still. From those times, however, rose a way of apology that we still hold dear, and it is our most unbreakable vow: should we offend or cause harm to another party, intended or not, reparations must be made. May I approach, that I might find out who we should give the gift to?”

Everyone paused at that, and looked at Rach’na with some confusion. It was Jim, however, who asked, “What do you mean? Aren’t you going to pay the reparations, or apology, or whatever it is, to me?”

Rach’na looked shocked at the very idea. “That would not stop bloodletting,” she said, and she gave them an odd look as though she couldn‘t believe they hadn‘t realized it yet. “If one was to desire the favor of a beloved, one would make sure that their families and friends were well pleased, correct? That would in turn make the beloved look upon that being with favor. It is the same in apology- where an apology or gift directly to the one who was mistreated may not result in true happiness, an apology or gift to the most beloved of the offended being will result in the purest joy, because a beloved one is gaining happiness. Therefore, I must figure out who is your most beloved, that we may gift them with whatever they desire, and thus bring you happiness.”

Jim’s mouth opened and closed several times, before he finally shook his head, a little chuckle escaping without his control and growing into a full-blown laugh that made him throw his head back, expression full of genuine mirth. “Rach’na, I think you may have the right of it after all,” Jim admitted, and pushed past his guards despite their protests. “I can hardly protest when this might bring happiness to someone I care for, right?”

Rach’na smiled. “That is our dearest hope,” she assured him. With another wary glance at Jim’s guards, she held out a hand, resting every so lightly over Jim’s heart.

Jim could feel his heart racing, wondering who Rach’na would peg as his ‘beloved’. He knew it probably wasn’t right, but he couldn’t help view the entire affair with a certain amount of humor, for surely the Nu’a wouldn’t be able to tell who he cared for most in the world. Jim ignored the little voice in the back of his head that muttered that they’d been able to make him relive Tarsus IV; finding out who he loved most in this world probably wouldn’t be a problem. He tried to calm his breathing, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the situation as each minute passed. It was too late now, though- he could feel a gentle pressure, like a warm hug, all over his body, gently probing for the answer that Rach’na desired. “Yes,” she breathed, then her hand dropped away from Jim’s chest and she took a step back, studiously ignoring the fact that every member of the landing party heaved a sigh of relief at that. She conferred with her fellow Nu’a for a few moments before they all came forward and bowed prostrate again.

This time, it wasn’t at Jim.

It was at Spock.

“Spock, beloved of Jim and most dear in his heart, if we may be so honored as to grant your deepest desire, should it be in our power, we will do so.”

There was a moment of silence, where the sheer awkwardness of the situation made it impossible for anyone to meet each other's eyes.

“Ummm…“ Jim stuttered, attempting to do damage control. He’d thought it would be Bones, or his mother- or something. Not Spock. It just…it couldn’t be Spock, right? “On this planet. He’s the most beloved person I have on this planet, right?”

Rach’na looked at Jim as though he’d lost his mind. “Spock is on this planet, indeed, but he is your beloved. Your most beloved. Of all your family and friends, he is most dear to your heart.”

“Um. Fuck.” Jim said, and figured he could be forgiven for the curse on account on the sheer surreality of the moment.

“You did not know Spock was your beloved?” Rach’na’s forehead creased, and she partially sat up from her bow.

“Um. No. Erm. Not precisely,” Jim babbled. “I thought Bones, or I don’t know, my mom-”

Rach’na’s frown deepened as she said uncertainly, “You don’t want us to gift your beloved?”

Jim’s eyes widened comically. “No! I mean…no! Um, Spock is fine, Spock is great!” He clapped his fingers over his mouth, his entire face scarlet, even to the tips of his ears and spreading down his neck. He couldn’t look either Spock or Sarek- or even the Security team- in the eyes, unsure what to make of Rach’na’s casual pronouncement. Jim didn’t think that Rach’na was wrong, or any of that sort of nonsense, but he just hadn’t quite thought of it that way. She was right though. Somehow, Spock has slipped into his life so completely he almost couldn’t remember what it was like to not have him around.

Jim stared blankly at the sky for a moment, hands still over his mouth. He couldn’t imagine life without Spock. It was wrong, so utterly and completely wrong to even entertain such a thought.

Jim swallowed, and filed the revelation under ‘interesting and needs to be dealt with ASAP, but not at the moment’. “Spock,” he said in a voice that only shook a little, “it looks like it’s your show.”

Spock, to Jim’s surprise was flushing ever so slightly too- the very tips of his ears were a brilliant emerald green, even if the rest of him was as composed as usual. Jim still didn’t dare look at anyone else yet, thought. Instead he focused the entirety of himself on Spock, as the half-Vulcan stepped through the guards to where Rach’na and the others were still bowing, their faces pressed to the dirt and grass.

“I accept your offer,” Spock said in a voice that wavered ever so slightly. If Jim wasn’t so attuned to his First Officer, he might have missed it. He sounded like he was accepting a challenge far more than a gift, however. “Am I supposed to…tell you what I…what I desire?” That emerald flush spread a little further down his ears and began to rise in his cheeks. Jim couldn’t imagine how mortified he must be, to speak of desiring and wanting, when he’d spent his entire life suppressing such things. Yet here he was, going beyond the bounds of comfort to do his duty to keep relations smooth. And perhaps, maybe a little, to see if the Nu’a could actually grant him his greatest desire.

Jim didn’t feel bad for putting him on the spot. Spock deserved every happiness in the world, in the universe.

 _Huh_ , Jim thought with no small measure of surprise. _Maybe there’s more to this beloved business than I thought_.

Rach’na shook her head, however. She stood again, hand reaching out and finding Spock’s heart with unerring precision. She bowed her head in concentration, closing those too large jade-colored eyes. Those tiny holes opened on her cheeks and those deep purple-blue tears began to roll down to her jaw as she stood there, motionless. “Spock,” she breathed finally, and there was a world of agony compressed into that single word. “How you have been hurt.”

There was silence in the clearing as no one responded, shocked by the pronouncement. Spock kept facing forward, but there was a tightness in his back that hadn’t been present there even a minute ago. “What did you see?” He asked in a voice that rasped, too full of emotion to ring clear.

Rach’na’s expression cleared and the tears slowed and then stopped. She wiped at her face, and made a strangely twisting half-bow to Spock. “We can bring you back your greatest desire, Spock. We will bring back the person that you loved so dearly and lost far too early.”

“Spock, we will bring back your mother.”


	14. I Promise You That We're Marching On

If Jim thought that he could hear a pin drop earlier, when his beloved was announced, it didn’t hold a candle to that announcement.  
  
“How?”  
  
That was Sarek, and for the first time since Jim had met the man, undisguised emotions were crossing his features; a deep, unrepentant fury, a desperate hope, a confusion, and too many others to many flitted across those craggy features before he was able to successfully compose his face. Even then, his control was not nearly as perfect as he might have wished.  
  
Still, he’d asked the question that every person standing on the planet desired to know. Jim wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel yet. He was still lost in some sort of shock, unable to wrap his mind around what Rach’na had promised Spock. It couldn’t be real, it simply couldn’t be. And yet…and yet somehow Jim was convinced that the Nu’a could actually do as they had promised. So he simply waited, hardly daring to breathe, lest the spell somehow be broken and reality returned. From this angle, he couldn’t quite make out Spock’s features, but his First Officer certainly had his eyes closed, entire body trembling with the enormity of the Nu’a’s promise.  
  
Rach’na looked at each face, and then said slowly, “It is done easily enough, assuming you have some genetic material from your mother.”  
  
“Hair.” Spock rasped. “Hair, would that work?”  
  
“ _Genetic material will not remake Amanda_ ,” Sarek rumbled, and Jim’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d never considered what it might be like, to actually see a pre-Reformation Vulcan, but the way Sarek’s eyes were glittering with barely restrained anger made Jim suddenly glad that he’d never have the chance. He’d underestimated the sheer power that Sarek’s voice held; it made Jim want to bow his head in the hopes that the furious warrior god would pass him by. “ _Genetic material does not contain her pure heart, her laughter, her kindness, her…_ ” His voice failed him briefly, and Jim could practically taste the Vulcan’s sorrow, and it brought tears to Jim’s eyes. “ _Her love_.” Sarek finished, and Jim could tell that it cost him something to say that.  
  
Rach’na looked taken aback at Sarek’s intimidating presence and bowed again, the strange twisting and sinuous motion, hoping to placate Sarek‘s rage. “Ambassador Sarek, we are not arguing with you on that point- far from it, in fact. If we simply grew another body, that would hardly be worth anything. You, however, are the key and the reason that we are able to do this. Within in your _katra_ , you hold the soul of your wife, Spock’s mother’s soul.”  
  
There was silence at that.  
  
Veda stepped forward unexpectedly, drawing all eyes to her. She quailed a little under the attention and then stood straighter. “It should not come as so big a surprise,” she said, her voice thin. “I saw it- Vulcans move their souls, their _katra_ upon death, and can bestow it upon another. How is this any different?”  
  
“Humans are psi-null.” That was Spock, regarded Veda with a carefully restrained hope.  
  
“It matters not,” Rach’na said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Just because someone is psi-null does not mean they lack a soul. They are simply unable to sense it, unable to use it as other species are, in fact. Sarek, as a Vulcan, you had a bond with your wife. You gave everything you are to each other, every laugh, every breath, every hope and dream and fear that either of you had ever experienced in your entire life was shared between you within that bond- and it lies there still. You still carry her soul within yours. We Nu’a are adept at the manipulation of spirit. We could remove that soul and put it in her new body.”  
  
Sarek closed his eyes, and lifted a hand, resting it against his heart for a long moment. “I…I had her inside of me?” he croaked, and Jim had never seen a Vulcan come so undone. Spock’s shoulder’s were shaking, one hand over his face.  
  
Rach’na looked pitying. “She was of a different species, a different world. Their spirits may work differently, but one thing will always remain the same. Our beloved are always with us, through life and death, are they not?”  
  
“Yes.” Spock agreed, and his voice was raw and ragged from behind his hand.  
  
Jim wanted nothing more than to walk over and hug Spock, and couldn’t resist the first. He stepped over to where Spock was standing and laid a warm hand on his shoulder, hoping that Spock would understand the silent support. Spock leaned into the touch, and Jim gripped his shoulder a little tighter. His heart beat faster as Spock turned towards him, those dark eyes frightened as they faced Jim.  
  
“What if…” he swallowed, and had to visibly muster the strength to continue. “What if Starfleet-”  
  
“ _Fuck Starfleet_ ,” Jim snarled, and his voice was hot and tight. “Don’t think about them. I’ll do whatever’s necessary to defend what happens here to the Admirals- this is about you being happy, about being given back your _mother_.” Jim knew his voice was as raw as Spock’s was, but he had to make him understand. “You are being given a priceless gift- I will not see you waste it. Your mother, in all her glory- her very _soul_ , everything she was, everything you had meant to each other until the moment Nero fucking-” he cut himself off, and a few tears slipped down his cheeks. “Do it, Spock. Agree. You deserve to be happy.”  
  
Spock didn’t quite step out of Jim’s hold, but he turned toward the Nu’a, whose green eyes were opaque, waiting silently for an answer. “What…what exactly would this entail?” He said carefully, neither agreeing nor refusing their offer.  
  
“We would take the genetic material from the hair that you will provide us with. We will essentially clone her from that genetic material; it should not take more than four or five hours to fully grow, assuming that one of your doctors will be able to provide us with information on the human species biology, that we might provide the body with the proper essential nutrients, for we will only need to reconfigure our machines for your DNA. When she has reached full growth, we will remove the soul that remains in Sarek, and transfer it to the new body. She will retain everything from the moment of her birth to the moment of her death, exactly as she viewed it. Her feelings, her thoughts, her intelligence, her interests- all will be as it once was, no more, no less.”  
  
All eyes turned to Spock, even Sarek’s, and Jim wondered what Spock would say.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
From there, things seemed to move in slow motion. They were beamed back up to the ship, and Spock and Sarek returned down with a hair from Amanda’s comb, one of the items that had been shipped to Spock from the Vulcan embassy upon his mother’s death, and Bones, who spoke with the Nu’a about cloning, about Amanda, about the female physiology- anything and everything that might be necessary to consider. Jim fought tooth and nail with the Admirals at Starfleet, spending four hours straight making them see how this situation could be used to Starfleet and Vulcan’s advantage, trying to make the Nu’a sound like perfect candidates for entrance into the Federation. In short, he did everything possible to smooth the way. Whispers spread across the Enterprise like wildfire, each theory as to what was happening more unbelievable than the last. Jim thought about quelling the rumors, but everyone would find out what was happening soon enough, and he had other things to do.  
  
Six hours in total passed before Jim beamed back down to the planet. Spock, Sarek, Bones and two Security teams were already down there, waiting in the Nu’a’s medical facility. They were crowded around a modestly darkened tank, but Jim could just make out Amanda’s naked form being nursed in the nutrients. She didn’t look quite old enough to his eye, but then, he’d never seen her before in his life, beyond the odd picture or two that he’d sometimes caught sight of when he was in Spock’s room playing chess, and in those she‘d been veiled from head to toe.  
  
They all watched with baited breath, hardly able to believe it was really happening as the tank was drained and Amanda’s body removed. Jim averted his eyes, unable to look at the sight of Spock’s mom naked- the mere idea made him shiver with the sheer strangeness of it all. Spock too didn’t quite look at his mother, but Sarek stared the entire time, face hungry and carrying a desperate sort of hope. Jim whispered a silent prayer that this would work, a clinical detachment starting to spread over him.  
  
Rach’na stepped forward once Amanda had been dried off, her vitals and DNA checked by Bones against her medical file, making sure that everything was in place. Sarek stepped forward as well, and everyone leaned forward as one to see what would happen next. Rach’na’s hands hovered over Sarek’s temples for a long moment, for too long, and Jim could feel his heart sinking, wondering if it wasn’t enough-  
  
An iridescent fog of brilliant, purest white began to gather around Rach’na’s hands. Sarek trembled, beginning to turn grey as the soul was removed from his _katra_. He gave a terrible gasp, and Bones started forward, but Sarek threw up a hand, indicating that he should not interrupt the process, though everyone could see how it pained him to have Amanda‘s soul torn from his. Jim could see that Bones wasn’t happy, that he wanted nothing more than to rush forward and make sure the older man was okay. Spock, gripped the doctor’s arm in silent support, and Bones’s face softened, and he grabbed Spock’s elbow. Jim stepped closer as well wrapping an arm around Spock and feeling his heart thundering in his side, his breath coming quick as he kept his eyes glued to his mother’s still form.   
  
Just when Jim thought that it wouldn’t be possible to pull any more spirit out of Sarek, Rach’na turned, so slowly that it was barely noticeable and bent down of Amanda, releasing the soul back into its proper home.  
  
Light blazed, blinding everyone in the room.  
  
When it faded, everyone rushed forward, Bones studying Amanda’s vitals, which hadn’t changed for a single instant, not so much as a missed heartbeat as a result of the transfer, while Spock and Sarek hovered over her still form, waiting for some change, for some indication that their hope had not been fruitless, that they were about to have their greatest joy restored to their lives.  
  
Amanda blinked up at them once, twice, and the collective intake of air nearly sucked the room dry.  
  
“Spock?” Her eyes flickered to her husband, “Sarek? Wasn’t I…I thought I was…” she trailed off, confused.  
  
There was a moment of crystalline silence that filled the room for a single moment.  
  
Then Jim let out a cheer.  
  
Jim couldn’t help it, for Amanda had recognized the two most important people in her world, that it had _worked_ , against all odds, that somehow the Nu’a had managed to deliver what they had promised and give Spock joy again; they were even right in believing that when a beloved one is brought happiness that it makes those around them happy- Jim knew that he’d never be able to so much as think a bad word at them again. He’d be too busy trying to spend the rest of his life expressing his joy and thankfulness and excitement.   
  
His cheer set off the entire room, and suddenly there were Nu’a shouting and hugging each other, laughing and clapping their hands. Spock, Sarek, Amanda, Jim, Bones and the Security team were each hugged in turn, and then hugged again and again and again until they were overwhelmed to the point of tears by the sheer exultation that filled every corner of the room. Spock and Sarek touched Amanda constantly, unable to believe that she was here, that she was _herself_ , that brilliant, beautiful woman that they had known and loved and had lost for so long. Amanda herself seemed confused and curious, but was showing no ill effects for the moment, at least based on the scans that Bones had been able to squeeze in amongst all the cheering and celebration.  
  
Time passed in a blur, first with Jim watching Bones calling for quiet so he could speak with Amanda for a moment, to see what she remembered. Then Jim was on board the Enterprise, sharing the news with the shocked and awed and ecstatic crew while Amanda, Spock and Sarek were examined in the infirmary. And then Jim walked to the Med Bay himself, staring at Amanda and crying silently for all that had been given back in forty eight hours, for the joy that was so exquisitely beautiful that it was agony to live.  
  
Though time may have passed in a blur, it did in fact pass- and just because Jim’s entire world, entire universe had changed didn’t mean that reports stopped coming in, didn’t mean that they didn’t still have to get on the road back to Earth, didn’t mean that Jim could stop sleeping or eating or doing any one of the thousand things that needed seeing too.  
  
Spock had tried to return to his work once or twice, but Jim had ordered him back to his mother, and he had complied with hardly a single word, having only done so in the first place out of a sense of personal duty. Sarek never moved from his wife’s side, going so far as sleeping in the biobed next to her, dignity be damned.  
  
And somehow, in all the pandemonium that came with sorting everything out, Jim managed to send a prayer to any god that was listening, thanking them for turning Tarsus IV into one of the best things that had ever happened in his life.  
  


~*~

Three weeks later still meant it was a novelty to see Spock without his mother. As the Nu’a had promised, it was Amanda Grayson, perhaps not with the body that had died, but the same mind, same spirit. Thus far, the only surprise was that Amanda’s body was not that of a forty five year old woman, as it had been when she died, but closer to twenty- from Bones’s declaration, it was only natural, since age was a result of, amongst other things, DNA breaking down and the accumulation of damage dealt to the body over the years. Her new body had no old injuries to attend to, none of the illnesses or stresses that had worn her old body down. And since her body had been cloned, every cell was formed of perfect DNA. It was that, perhaps that had hit Spock and Sarek hardest of all- not only was she back, but she probably would have an additional twenty or thirty years to live beyond her original lifespan, perhaps more, something that was beyond even their greatest hopes.

As for Amanda herself, she was slowly getting acclimated to living again, resting a lot, and remaining strictly in Med Bay under Bones’s careful observation, who was constantly checking to make sure that everything was going smoothly. As she was mostly confined to the bed, she spent most of her time figuring out what had happened since she’d been killed and going over old memories, proving that she did in fact remember, that she was really and truly Amanda Grayson, back from the dead against all odds. She’d been surprisingly calm about the whole idea of her death, as a matter of fact, practically blasé, though not insensitive to her husband and son’s constant need for reassurance that she was, in fact, actually there, in the flesh and blood, breathing.

It was for this reason that when Spock contacted Jim, he fully expected to go down to Med Bay, where he could speak with Spock relatively privately, but it wouldn’t force him to leave his mother’s sight. Instead, Spock asked to meet Jim in his quarters. Jim was too shocked to do anything but agree, a small sliver of trepidation making its way into Jim’s stomach. He handed the conn off to Chekov absently, making his way off the bridge and to his quarters with as much speed as he could use without drawing undue attention to himself.

Spock was waiting outside Jim’s doors, hands crossed behind his back. Jim marveled at the Vulcan control, at the stillness of his face and body, more statue than living flesh. Unless Jim watched Spock’s eyes very carefully, it was almost possible to miss the incandescent joy that shone from his eyes, the way his mouth was constantly twitching into an almost-smile.

“Come on in,” Jim said, keying in his code and waving his First Officer into his room. As the door slid shut behind them, Jim said, “What can I do you for?”

Spock thought for a moment, silent. Then he said in a quiet tone that was nonetheless surprisingly fervent for a Vulcan, “I hardly know where to begin speaking. It will be months, perhaps years before I am able to fully articulate just what you have given back to me.”

“De nada,” Jim said, uncomfortable with the praise. He sat in a chair and gestured for Spock to take the other one. “Really, it was nothing.”

Spock leaned forward, earnest. “But it wasn’t ‘nothing’, Captain, and you know this perfectly well. It was as the Nu’a intended it to be- a gift, the greatest gift I could…” there was that endearing emerald flush again, spreading across Spock’s features with all the implacability of an army. He was clearly forcing himself to speak as he finished, “the greatest gift that I could desire.” Spock looked away from his Captain, mortified beyond being able to meet Jim’s eyes.

“Spock…” Jim trailed off, “You don’t have to thank me, really, we’ve gone over this before-”

“But I do have to thank you!” Spock burst out and he stood, agitated enough that he actually began pacing across the length of the room, emotions fighting to break free of that ever-cool mask. “You suffer through Tarsus IV, one of the greatest tragedies in this universe’s history, and you expect nothing of it. And then Rach’na…R-rach’na…” Never before in Jim’s life had he heard Spock stutter, never had he seen the blush spread so far across his features.

“Rach’na called you my beloved.” Jim whispered into the tense silence left by Spock’s inability to say another word.

“Yes.” The word was little more than a puff of air, nearly too quiet to reach Jim’s ears.

They were silent for many long moments, lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Jim sighed, and Spock faced his Captain once more, eyes pleading for him to make everything better, to explain it all in terms that the half-Vulcan could understand- in logic and intelligence instead of emotion and instinct. Jim wanted nothing more than to be able to reassure Spock, but he couldn’t. “I…yes. I care for you. That’s not something that I’m going to deny or challenge, because I think it would be a waste of my effort to pretend that I believe it, and a waste of effort for you to pretend you believe me.”

Now it was Jim who stood. “Don’t you ever feel like we’re just drawn together? This is hardly the first time something like this has been hinted at- the Nu’a are just the most recent in a long line of alien species and people who have told us, implicitly or explicitly, that there’s something between us, something that connects us. The Nu’a have just been more detailed about our relationship than most. And even though I’d prefer to pretend that we’re just friends, that we’re just brothers in arms- that’s not it, is it? We’re something more than that. How many times have I risked my life for you, or you for me? How many times have we sought out each other’s company, even when there are a crowd of friends in the room that are more than willing to speak with us? When was the last time we went more than a day or two without playing a game of chess, or discussing music, or just sitting in silence, or _something_? I’m not…” Jim exhaled, long and slow, hyper aware of Spock’s steady gaze on him, and seated himself again, staring at his hands. “I’m not saying that we’re each other’s soul mates or crap like that, or that we complete each other in a way that we’ve never experienced before. It’d be a lie. We’re not in love, we might not ever be in love, but I guess…I guess it’s a little hard to pretend that there isn’t something, that there isn’t at least the _potential_ for something more.”

Jim wanted to shut his mouth, wanted to leave the room, but he was pinned in his chair under Spock’s searing gaze, and his mouth continued to speak without any input or filtering from his brain whatsoever. “Fuck, Spock. I can’t even believe it took someone else to spell it out for me- I feel like a complete and total imbecile in hindsight. Christ, even when I was stuck in that life-touch, or whatever the hell it was called, little things kept slipping through. Dr. Jameson looked just like Bones, even had his accent. Scotty was the first person to get off the rescue cargo ship. Sulu was the guard who saved our lives- every one of my friends played some sort of role in that nightmare and it never registered, never got through. I saw them, and didn’t have any idea who they were, even though they’re the closest things I’ve got to family. And then you, Spock, all you had to do was step off that fucking ship and that was it.” Jim shook his eyes, closing his eyes to prevent tears from slipping out. “That was it. I saw you, and knew it couldn’t be Tarsus IV. And maybe that was a part of the meld but still…I knew it was you the instant I saw you. I knew who you were, who I was…it was like everything changed in that instant because I knew you were there, and therefore everything was going to be alright.”

Spock open and closed his mouth several times before he was able to summon up enough will to speak. He spoke with the barest hint of a smile, something in his eyes having warmed with every word that Jim spoke. “I cannot find fault with your logic,” he said serenely, but it was said with such unrestrained joy and pride that Jim felt tingles spread all over his body in response.

“So where does that leave us?” Jim asked. “I mean, firstly, you’ve got that thing with Uhura. Secondly, I don’t even know if you’re staying with Starfleet. I mean, I couldn’t blame you for resigning your commission so you could stay with your mom. After everything that happened, I would even say that might be the choice that will make you happiest. And even assuming we can work those things out…” Jim felt some blood drain out of his face, and his smile grew much weaker. “Even assuming we can work those things out, there are still things you should know about me, even beyond Tarsus IV. I’m not…I haven’t always been a good person, Spock. I was lost for a lot of my life before I came to the Enterprise. I don’t like that person very much anymore, but he’s still there, still a part of me, and that’s something I’ll never be able to get rid of. Just from the little I’ve learned about your life, I think there are probably a few things I should know about you too. And if we somehow manage to get through all of that without killing each other- or, as one fun possibility, Uhura killing me for corrupting her boyfriend- that still doesn’t mean we’re in love. In like, possibly, and with the hope of being in love eventually, but it’s not something that’s going to come over night. And then-”

Spock darted forward, pressing a chaste, hot kiss to one cheekbone. Jim froze instantly, instinctively savoring the moment for the gift that it was, savoring the heat before him that was Spock’s body, the dryness of his lips on Jim’s skin, even the way Spock’s breath ghosted over Jim’s face as the half-Vulcan pulled away. When Spock drew back, Jim thought distantly that green may have just become his new favorite color. Jim remained silent even after the shock of the moment, sensing Spock’s need to speak.

“‘The thing with Uhura’, as you so gracefully put it, is not a reason at this time not to pursue this further. While she and I are still together in a romantic sense, it is not the same as it once was. As you phrased it earlier- we certainly l-love-” Spock stumbling over a word, as that green flush that had been almost constant through the entire conversation intensified, quickly became Jim’s new favorite sight, “-love each other, but I am not sure that we are still in love with each other. I still favor her over all those of my acquaintance, not unlike you do with Doctor McCoy, but I am unsure as to where we stand in regards to one another, for even she has spoken of our relationship changing within indefinable parameters. As for the second concern you raised, I will not be resigning from Starfleet.” Jim opened his mouth to protest, and shut it again with one look from Spock. “She is my mother, that is true, and I do wish to make up for lost time, but my mother has urged me to remain with Starfleet, doing what I love. She says that she would rather hear of my adventures in the stars, where I am doing good work with people who care for me beyond simply my role as First Officer, than for me to join her on New Vulcan or on Earth. She has made it clear that my home is here, on the Enterprise, and that she will be most disappointed should I abandon my duties so that I might tend to her.” Spock’s mouth twitched a little, even in the gravity of the situation. “She has informed me that one mother hen in the form of my father was quite enough, thank you very much.”

Jim knew that Spock was probably quoting his mother verbatim, and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. From the few chances he’d had to speak with Amanda Grayson since her return, and from the stories that had been told of her, Jim had nothing but admiration for that spitfire of a woman who was nearly a force of nature, able to browbeat even her stoic Vulcan husband and half-Vulcan child into submission when the time called for it.

Then the laugh quieted and stilled, and Spock continued. “As for the third issue…” Spock’s features schooled themselves into a careful neutrality. “I think, perhaps, that the only remedy for that is talking, at our own pace, in our own time. We will share our burdens with each other, I believe, but it is not something that cannot be rushed; we cannot pick a day to share everything we are of each other and have done with it. As for the last concern…” Spock was contemplative, and Jim sat up a little straighter in his chair, holding his breath.

“My mother said often that it was better to have loved and lost often when I was a child. I did not understand the sentiment then, for even as a child I understood that I was different, that she was different, and that somehow we were lesser because of it. I did not understand how love could be worth the sacrifices that she made for our family. It was not until I lost her, lost my entire world that I realized how apt it was. In a sense, she had loved and lost, at least from my view- her family lived on Earth, and though they often sent videos to each other, they visited infrequently and she was not a part of their life as she once was. She had loved and lost in the sense that she chose to go to Vulcan with my father, where she lost a part of herself as she struggled to conform for a long time to Vulcan social mores. She had loved and lost in that both her people and my father’s people shunned her for her cross-species marriage, and then later for my very birth, and still she continued on. She never raised complaints, fought only for the things that really mattered, and so much more, because she loved my father and I so deeply and purely that I cannot imagine its scope or its breadth. I would not do honor to her death, or-” and here Spock let slip a tiny, nearly invisible smile that Jim found so breathtakingly beautiful that he did not realize that he’d risen from the chair and started across the room towards Spock, “-or to her life if I did not at least take a chance to see if I would be able to nurture the same love that she gave to my father and I.”

Jim couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, cupping Spock’s face in one hand and feeling a little thrill when Spock just closed his eyes in response, and if he did not quite welcome the touch, he didn’t turn it away either. “So where does that leave us?” Jim whispered, itching to close the gap between them and simply see where things led.

“It leaves us with me needing to talk with Nyota about where we stand in relation to one another, with us needed to understand each other better on a personal level, and both of us needing to meditate on whether what we may get out of such a partnership would be worth the effort it would take to start, and then maintain such an intimate relationship. In that meditation, of course, we would also have to consider Starfleet and our roles as Captain and First Officer, naturally, which I am quite sure would have been the next point you would have made before I interrupted you.” Spock carefully didn’t mention what it was that he had done to stop Jim from speaking, and Jim kindly didn’t bring it up, for he could tell that it had been an instinctual move, a move that had not been thought out beforehand, and that frightened Spock just a little.

“Alright,” Jim said, and Spock relaxed fractionally. Simply because he loved pushing Spock’s buttons, getting under his skin and proving he was more than just a Vulcan, Jim smirked a little. “But we have to have something to meditate on, then.”

“Meditate on?” Spock said uncertainly, leaning away from Jim and the hand that was still pressed to his cheek. “What exactly do you mean?”

“Well,” said Jim with a sly little smile, “We need to have something to make sure that we are in fact interested in pursuing each other.”

“Such as?”

“A kiss.”

Spock inhaled sharply, but Jim waited patiently for Spock to agree or disagree. “Well?” Jim pressed, when Spock remained indecisive after a long minute.

Spock opened and shut his mouth, as speechless as Jim had ever seen him. Jim pressed his hand against the warm skin of Spock’s face again, thumb rubbing gently against his cheekbone as Jim moved forward. “Just a kiss. It doesn’t have to mean more than what we want it to mean, and it gives us something to think about.”

Spock closed his eyes, and Jim took it as acquiescence.

The kiss was gentle, light, the barest press of lips against lips. Jim angled his head a little, Spock doing the same, and then bumped noses. Jim laughed a little against Spock’s lips, and could feel the half-Vulcan restraining a small smile of his own. Jim pulled back a little, elated when Spock followed him, pressing another slow, sweet kiss against Jim’s lips.

Jim stepped back then, to give Spock space and to catalogue his own reaction to the kiss. As he’d expected, there’d been no sudden fiery burst of passion, or any urges to declare his undying love for Spock- that would come, perhaps, or it wouldn’t. Jim simply didn’t know. But there had been something there, a smoldering promise in the kiss that Jim enjoyed more than he’d expected to.

Jim smiled, soft and bright and true in the face of the pure affection that had been in the kiss, wanting nothing more than to laugh for the possibilities that he’d sensed in their brief embrace. He looked at Spock, heart thudding faster than it had in years as he hoped that Spock had felt the same.

The Vulcan mask was back, and Jim’s stomach plummeted until Spock stood and very slowly, very gently, pressed a kiss to Jim’s forehead. “I think,” he breathed, and Jim was suddenly struck by how _delicious_ the Vulcan smelled. “That you have given me plenty of ‘food for thought’.” Spock said, and there was something about his voice that delighted Jim utterly.

Spock slipped past the still somewhat dazed Jim, and the man turned, calling out, “Wait!”

“Yes, Captain?” Spock asked, half turning to face Jim.

Jim swallowed, more nervous than he had a right to be. “Dinner, tonight?”

Spock smiled again, gentle and sweet, and Jim knew in that moment that he might be more in love with the half-Vulcan than he’d thought. Jim suspected that Spock knew that, for his eyes laughed at Jim as he said, in his warmest voice, “Of course, Jim,” before stepping out the door and letting it slide closed behind him.

 _It is better to have loved and lost…_ Jim thought, thinking of his past, thinking of the future.

In the darkness of his quarters, he grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally moved this to AO3!


End file.
